


He Was A Teenage Werewolf

by maryangel



Category: Bandom, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Alternate Universe, High School, M/M, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-11-03
Updated: 2010-11-03
Packaged: 2017-10-14 00:48:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 45,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/143485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maryangel/pseuds/maryangel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gerard is transfered to Queen Of Peace, a Catholic school, in the middle of term on his senior year. On his first day, after being forced to wear an ugly uniform and an itchy tie, he has to share a locker with a weird kid named Frank he eventually befriends, gets detention and makes enemies among the faculty.</p>
            </blockquote>





	He Was A Teenage Werewolf

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you [](http://tempore.dreamwidth.org/profile)[**tempore**](http://tempore.dreamwidth.org/) for the beta. Written for [](http://www.livejournal.com/users/werewolfbigbang/profile)[**werewolfbigbang**](http://www.livejournal.com/users/werewolfbigbang/)

“You look great,” Mikey drawls, cocking his head to the side and pulling on Gerard’s tie, popping his collar up and rearranging his hair, as if Gerard was some kind of special project to Mikey, a two year old who couldn’t tie his own shoelaces and needed his brother to do it for him.

Gerard bats Mikey’s hands away. “I look fucking ridiculous,” he mumbles, pulling on his tie.

The thing is itchy and it makes him look stupid. Gerard doesn’t understand why people wear them, those tiny torture devices made for choking. Maybe Mikey put it on too tight on purpose or maybe Gerard is just allergic to the cheap polyester fabric.

Gerard takes another gander at his uniform-clad self in the cracked mirror on his dresser and heaves a sigh.

He’s not going to make it through this day alive. He might as well paint a bull’s-eye on his back and wait for people to pick on him, the awkward new kid in school.

It was never his idea to switch schools in the middle of term on his senior year. He would have stayed in his old public school where people don’t have to wear ties or ugly uniforms if it had been his decision.

Gerard was just starting to get used to the teasing and bullying anyway. It wasn’t such a big deal, the gum in his hair and the Coke in his book bag, the wedgies and the name calling. It was his fate to be a human punching bag and he had come to accept it.

Queen of Peace is a **Roman Catholic school** ; three words that make Gerard’s knees shake in their itchy slacks. It has stuck up nuns and morning masses, and Gerard isn’t sure he can cope with either of these.

Mikey has been feeding him terrifying tales about some of the teachers for months now, long before Gerard heard his parents were going to pull him out of Belleville High and transfer him to Nun Central.

“Sister Anne likes to quiz randomly about the Bible although she’s supposed to be teaching English,” Mikey says as they walk up to the bus stop, shivering in the cool March breeze.

 _Great_ It so happens that Gerard might have English with the infamous Sister Anne first or second period and he is a little rusty on his Bible facts.

“Don’t ever make eye contact with her or she might take it as provocation. Don’t say ‘fuck’ or ‘shit’ or ‘damn’. Once, she slapped a kid in front of the entire class because he said ‘shit’.”

These are Gerard’s favorite words. _Shit._ He is undeniably and irremediably _fucking damned_.

*

The bus shows up five minutes later, and Gerard follows Mikey to the back, pulling on his tie nervously and trying to loosen it up a notch so he can breathe. Breathing would be nice. It would be also very nice if he could stop scratching at his neck. It feels like Mom has sprayed itching powder instead of Febreze on his tie this morning.

Mikey shakes hand with a couple of guys, makes small talk about the latest episode of Doctor Who with a group of kids Gerard has seen around the neighborhood.

The bus pulls out of the curb and Gerard loses his balance. He manages to hold himself steady on someone’s shoulder and makes his way to an empty seat before he falls on his face at the next stop light.

The ride to school isn’t as traumatic and eventful as Gerard had pictured it. Most kids look just as ridiculous as him with their ties although they all seem to pull off the rest of the uniform pretty admirably. No one asks him who he is. No one even speaks to him which is fine by him.

Gerard is still pulling on his tie, one finger stuck in the knot, and thinking about how he would exchange his slacks for one of the girls’ skirts which are looking infinitely more comfortable when the bus reaches its destination.

He waits until he’s one of the last person still seating before heading out, dragging his feet along the aisle to delay his impending doom.

Mikey is waiting for him by the gate, his eyebrow quirked. “You should stop fiddling with your tie,” he says, shaking his head disapprovingly.

“I can’t breathe,” Gerard protests but Mikey grabs Gerard’s tie and fastens it a little tighter. “It itches like a motherfucker.”

“Just don’t put your fingers in it and you’ll be fine,” he says and then he’s dragging Gerard past the gate.

*

Gerard has been there before. He parked his car outside a few times when he picked Mikey up. He never actually went inside though.

The building is impressive from the inside. It’s much bigger than Gerard thought. “Bigger on the inside then on the outside,” he whispers and Mikey snorts at him.

“I’ll take you to the principal’s office so you can get your class schedule and then it’s hasta la vista, baby,” Mikey says, finally letting go of Gerard’s sleeve as they walk down the corridor.

The Principal’s office is in a different wing of the building. Gerard didn’t know the school had wings.

A stern looking clerk with thick glasses, short curly black hair and a slight lisp asks Gerard to sit down and gives him some kind of form he’s supposed to fill out about potential food and medication allergies. Gerard feels like he’s in the wrong place, like he’s at the doctor’s about to get a full check up.

“I have PE in, like, five minutes. Will you be alright by yourself?” Mikey asks and, _okay_ , Gerard is really starting to feel like an idiot. He can find his way to his classes and he certainly doesn’t need a fucking tour guide.

“M’fine,” Gerard replies, shooing Mikey out.

“Don’t scratch your neck so much. It looks gross enough like that,” Mikey calls out from the door, loud enough that Gerard wants to hide under his chair forever and pretend he doesn’t even know Mikey. Maybe being an only child wouldn’t be that bad.

Gerard pulls his fingers off his tie. He didn’t even notice he was still scratching at his neck. He bites the inside of his cheeks as he fills out the paperwork and occasionally looks up to see what the clerk is up to.

She’s typing frantically, only stopping to take a sip of her tea. There’s a brown plastic plaque on her desk with what Gerard assumes is her name, “Doris McIntosh.”

When Gerard is done filling out the form, Doris hands him a tiny piece of paper with a locker number and combination as well as a pile of documents that weighs about a ton. “Here’s your orientation packet. You’ll have to share someone else’s locker for now,” she announces before going back to her typing.

“Where should I go now?” Gerard asks just as the bell rings.

Doris waves vaguely at the documents and says, “There should be a map in there. I don’t think you’ll need a compass to find your way.”

Gerard turns on his heels and starts going through the orientation packet before he even reaches the hallway. He doesn’t need fucking Doris McIntosh and her patronizing tone.

There’s a leaflet about extracurricular activities, the required accoutrement for PE, the timetable for assemblies, dances and other stupid things Gerard doesn’t care about. It takes him a few minutes to find his class schedule and a very confusing map of the school. Gerard has never had a good sense of orientation and the fact that everything is labeled with letters on the map instead of the actual names isn’t helping.

It takes him twenty minutes to get to his first class.

*

“I got lost,” he says when the teacher (a man, not Sister Anne. A small victory) glares at him.

The teacher makes Gerard introduce himself briefly, “Hi. I’m Gerard and I’m new.”

Then Gerard goes to sit in the only available chair which happens to be at the very back of the classroom, stuck between a fire extinguisher and a girl who seems more interested in her split ends than in graphic design.

The class is boring but Gerard does his best to take notes. The teacher’s voice is monotonous, a low hum that seems to do a great job at putting everyone to sleep. By the end of the period, Gerard’s eyes are barely open and his notes are a jumbled mess of terms he doesn’t get. It seems like Mr. Hall’s Computer Art/Graphic Design is much more advanced than Gerard had expected and has more theory than actually practice.

Next period is US History, a subject for which Gerard is much more inclined to stay awake.

The teacher, a nun named Sister Isabelle asks Gerard to introduce himself again. There are a few faces Gerard recognizes in the room. Everyone seems pretty annoyed with him by now so Gerard keeps his introduction short, “Hi. I’m Gerard.”

He finds a seat by the window, hoping everyone will forget that he’s here, hoping to get at least an hour to regroup and try and decipher the map.

“Can you tell us about the New Deal, Gerard?”

Gerard looks up from his map and shoves it hastily in his notepad. “The new deal?”

Sister Isabelle nods.

Everyone is staring at Gerard. Everyone is waiting for him to say something and it would be great if Gerard could actually remember anything he read about the subject last year.

“Er- Roosevelt?” Gerard stutters. He wipes off the palm of his hands on his jeans and swallows the lump in his throat.

“Was that a question?” Sister Isabelle asks as she makes her way through the classroom.

Suddenly, she’s standing in front of Gerard’s desk, staring at him with her big blue eyes and Gerard doesn’t remember what the question was.

“No?”

Sister Isabelle stares at Gerard for a few seconds, frowns and starts rambling about unemployment in the mid-thirties.

This is officially one of the worst days of Gerard’s life and it’s not even lunch time.

*

Gerard gets lost two or three more times before lunch period. He gets to pre-calculus two minutes late and has to stand in front of the entire class and solve this very tricky problem involving x and y and the square root of a hundred and forty three as penance.

Lunch time comes and Mikey is nowhere in sight in the cafeteria. But he could be anywhere. The place is huge, high ceilings and large wooden tables that make it look like Gerard is at Hogwarts.

Gerard spots a few familiar faces, a guy who sat next to him in pre-calc and a girl who laughed at him when he messed up in US History. Gerard makes his way to a corner and sits by himself with his lunch, a pathetic, kind of squished looking peanut butter and jelly sandwich, a Snickers bar and a Coke Zero.

When he’s done eating, Gerard decides to swing by his locker before English class. His book bag isn’t really heavy because he’s still lacking actual school books but he’s a little curious to see where they put him.

He finds the locker without any difficulty, at the end of the main corridor, right next to one of the numerous girls’ bathrooms. He pulls out the paper with the combination and manages to unlock it on his first try.

Whoever owns the locker seems to have a thing for mix CDs. There’s a stack of them tucked in one corner, all neatly labeled and arranged by genre, year, and then alphabetically.

The inside of the door is covered in band stickers; bands Gerard knows for the most part, Black Flag, Misfits, Thrice, Jawbreaker and a few he has never heard of but sound kind of awesome anyway.

The locker smells like a weird mixture of pot and chocolate.

Gerard finds a couple of cigarettes wedged inside a library book (the guy is reading Oscar Wilde) and bottles of aspirin and Pepto Bismol hidden in the back.

After a couple of minutes, Gerard feels a little uncomfortable looking through the locker. These are someone else’s things. It’s an invasion of privacy. He feels even worse when he has to push aside a couple of books, making room at the bottom of the locker for the stack of useless documents Doris handed him this morning and for the comic book he forgot to take out of his bag, Doom Patrol, Volume Two, Issue twenty-six, the one with the Brotherhood of Dada, an item he shouldn’t be caught reading during classes.

As he shuts the door, Gerard looks over his shoulder, expecting the owner of the locker to come at him with something sharp and deadly.

Maybe Gerard doesn’t have to meet the co-owner of the locker any time soon. That would probably be better. Gerard isn’t that good at talking to people he doesn’t know.

*

Gerard gets to Sister Anne’s English class ages before the bell. He settles for one of the seats near a window, and doodles vampires and tentacles on his sketchbook, completely impervious to the world around him.

The classroom fills up slowly, and a girl with ponytails and a cute smile takes the seat next to Gerard. She cranes her neck to take a peek at Gerard’s sketch, but Gerard puts an arm around it. It’s not because he doesn’t like people to see his art. It’s more because he’s been drawing a zombie fighting a mummy, and really, besides Mikey and Ray, no one wants to see this kind of shit.

When a hand slams his sketchbook shut, Gerard looks up. His stomach leaps and his jaw drops.

Sister Anne is staring at him and he cannot look away. He vaguely remembers Mikey’s instructions but doesn’t seem to be able to follow them.

Sister Anne is tall. She’s taller than anyone Gerard ever met, even taller than his best friend, Toro. She has clear blue eyes that seem to drill a hole into Gerard’s very soul. Maybe she can see everything sinful he ever did. Maybe she knows he jacked off last night right before bed thinking about Batman (the comic book Batman, not George Clooney or Val Kilmer dressed as Batman).

When Gerard manages to close his mouth, Sister Anne’s lips are reduced to a thin line.

“Will you introduce yourself to the class?” she asks but it’s not really a request. The tone of her voice makes it sound more like it’s an order.

Gerard stands up and stares down at his feet as he says in low voice, “Hi, I’m Gerard.” He sits down and pushes his sketchbook aside. If only he had something else to occupy his idle hands, give him some sort of composure.

When he looks up again, Sister Anne is still staring at him, her nostrils flared, a ruler beating steadily against the palm of her hand.

“Tell us more,” she says, beckoning Gerard to stand up again.

Gerard complies. He clears his throat and mumbles, “I’m new here.”

 _Whack. Whack. Whack._ Sister Anne’s ruler beats a sturdy rhythm on her palm. Maybe she’s going to smack Gerard over the head with it.

“That, we knew, Mister-?”

“Way. Gerard Way.”

“Michael’s brother, I assume,” she says and Gerard nods.

“Mister Way, could you tell us a little bit more about your previous school. Why did you transfer?” Sister Anne asks and the whacking finally stops. She turns around and starts pacing around the room.

“I went to Belleville High. Now I’m here.”

That’s really all he’s willing to say. It’s not like anyone wants to know anything about him, that he likes drawing superheroes in his spare time and hates showering, or that he switched schools because he was being bullied on a daily basis, because he is too much of a loser to exist.

Someone laughs and Sister Anne slams her ruler on their desk. The laughing stops instantly.

“Obviously, they didn’t teach you how to introduce yourself properly at Belleville High, mister Way,” she says and Gerard can almost see the hint of a smile on her pursed lips.

“No.”

Maybe it’s not the answer she was expecting or maybe she wasn’t expecting Gerard to answer at all. Sister Anne crosses the room and plants her feet in front of Gerard’s desk. She whacks her ruler on Gerard’s sketchbook, missing his fingers by a couple of inches.

“How about you write me a two-thousand-word essay?”

Gerard is dying to tell her, “How about no?” but he’s not _that_ stupid. He’s not very eager to get his ass kicked by a nun. Not today. So Gerard keeps his mouth shut and ducks his head.

It’s his first day and Gerard already managed to make a mortal enemy.

“A two thousand word essay about the proper way to introduce oneself. I want it by the end of the week.”

Gerard keeps his head down and cringes. He can write an essay. At least, he didn’t get detention.

*

Gerard calls Ray Toro as soon as he’s home. He wants to tell him about his first day, whine about Sister Anne and about his ugly, itchy and tight uniform. He wants to complain about everything that is wrong about Queen of Peace starting with Doris and her stupid map and her smug attitude, but Ray isn’t here.

“He’s at band practice,” his mom informs Gerard.

Sure. Mondays are always band practice.

“He’ll be home around dinner time if you want to call back?”

Gerard mumbles and shakes his head, as if Mrs Toro could see him. “Nah t’s okay,” he finally mumbles before hanging up.

He goes to bed early and defeated, missing his best friend and wondering if he’s even going to make a new one in this hellhole. Maybe he’s doomed to be the lonely weird kid for the rest of the term, until he finally graduates and escapes to college (that is, if any college wants him).

*

When his alarm clock chirps, Gerard wants to hit the off button and crawl back under his duvet.

He didn’t get much sleep last night, just a couple of hours here and there. The rest of the night was mostly spent staring at the ceiling and at the clock. He did have a nightmare about Sister Anne and her ruler at some point which isn’t really that surprising.

There was also something else; a nightmare about a creature with yellow eyes leaping at him. It looked like the neighbors’ dog but its teeth were sharper, much larger. Too large to fit into the dog’s mouth. Gerard discards it as one of his horror movie fueled nightmares, the ones he gets after watching the Monster channel on cable right before bed.

Gerard expects his second day to be just as horrible as the first one, maybe worse.

With his rotten luck, he’s probably going to do something really embarrassing, maybe fall on his ass in class or trip over his own feet in the hallway, say _fuck_ in front of a nun or walk around school with a piece of toilet paper stuck to his shoe.

He’s expecting the worse when the bus pulls over by the school gate.

“I’ll see you at lunch?” Mikey asks before disappearing into the crowd.

Gerard shrugs. He’s probably going to end up in a corner by his lonesome self. It doesn’t really matter. What matters right now is that Gerard can’t find his locker combination anymore. He’s positive he put it in his jacket pocket right after using it yesterday and it should be there but it’s not.

Gerard has a pretty shitty memory. He can remember all sorts of useless things like who directed what movie or which issues of The X-Men had Kittie Pride in it, but for some reason, he’s never been good at remembering numbers.

After two failed attempts, the padlock resists and Gerard is about to give up.

“It’s 1 left, 8 right, 2 left,” a voice says behind Gerard.

The kid is barely Mikey’s age. Probably a freshman. He’s short and a little chubby, with a black eye that’s starting to turn yellow and a busted lip. His hair is short and dark brown. He’s smiling at Gerard, small but earnest.

“Thanks,” Gerard blurts out before shoving the books he doesn’t need at the bottom of the locker.

“I’d never read The Doom Patrol before,” the kid says, leaning against the door of the locker and shuffling his feet.

“It’s great. You should give it a try,” Gerard mumbles, keeping his head down. This kid is most likely not into comic books. He’s probably just making small talk which is fine since they’re sharing a locker. Gerard might as well try and stay civil with the poor kid.

“I did,” the kid says as he hands Gerard his comic book back. Gerard didn’t even notice it was missing. “I really like Grant Morrison,” the kid adds, his smile widening.

“You do?”

“I hope you don’t mind. I figured you wouldn’t miss it.”

Gerard shakes his head. He doesn’t mind at all although, he’s a little surprised.

“You’re the new guy,” the kid says, crossing his arms over his chest. “We saw each other yesterday. You probably don’t remember.” The kid puts his hand on Gerard’s shoulder and squeezes. “In the bus.”

Gerard needs a few seconds before he puts two and two together. Gerard grabbed this kid’s shoulder in the bus.

“I’m Frank. You can call me Frankie. Or Frank. Or Iero, cause that’s what the teachers call me most of the time. You don’t have to call me though.”

“I’m Gerard.”

Frank grins and runs a hand through his hair. Then he looks back over his shoulder, picks a couple of books from his locker and says, “I gotta run to class now. I’ll see you around, neighbor?” He doesn’t wait for an answer and scampers off the hallway, suddenly in a rush.

He makes his way through the crowd, all jittery and nervous looking, as if someone was chasing him. Frank eventually turns around a corner and disappears out of Gerard’s sight.

*

Gerard gets to pre-calculus just in time for a pop quiz. It’s complicated stuff he didn’t really study for, weird equations full of more Xs and Ys and variables. Gerard does his best. He’s not really expecting a good grade. A ‘C minus’ would be more than enough.

He’s looking up from his answer sheet, pondering if he should check A, B or C on the multiple choice part of the quiz when he notices the guy sitting on his left craning his neck and peering over Gerard’s arm.

Gerard isn’t sure the guy should really be copying off him since he’s pretty much shit at calculus but maybe the guy is worse, and Gerard is nice. He pulls his arm out of the way and tilts his sheet so the guy can have a better access to it. He scribbles _NOT REALLY SURE_ with his pencil at the bottom of the sheet and the guy rolls his eyes at him. _The asswipe._

Maybe Gerard should learn to mind his own business. Helping others obviously leads to nothing good at all. He’s erasing his message when someone clears their throat loudly.

Suddenly, Gerard’s answer sheet disappears and Mr. Dinozzo is glaring at him.

Gerard gets sent to the principal’s office in the middle of the pop quiz because Dinozzo thinks Gerard was cheating, copying off the asswipe who got him into this mess. The asswipe doesn’t get detention. Of fucking course.

The speech Gerard gets from the Principal about respect and how cheating is a sin, is painfully long. Gerard sits through it and nods patiently. Then he tries to explain himself, how it’s really a mistake; that he didn’t cheat, not once in his life but the Principal isn’t listening. He gives Gerard three weeks of detention.

Gerard got detention before at his old school. Just once, a sordid story about stolen lunch money Gerard had nothing to do with. He just happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time.

The day goes by slowly, too slow. Gerard finds Mikey outside the cafeteria after he’s already done eating his peanut butter and jelly sandwich by himself like a giant loser.

“I got fucking detention,” he whines, leaning against his brother and putting his head on Mikey’s shoulder.

“I told you to watch your language,” Mikey says, elbowing Gerard in the ribs. “You can say all the fucks and shits you want at home but the nuns have a broom up their…you know?”

“Ass,” Gerard finishes for him. He pulls away from Mikey and starts fiddling with his itchy tie again.

“Stop swearing, dude,” Mikey mumbles, swatting Gerard’s hands away from his tie. “I better go get some food before all the good stuff is gone,” he says, hip checking Gerard before making his way to the back of the lunch line.

“Don’t wait up on me after school,” Gerard tells him as he stands in the doorway. “I’ll walk home.”

“I’ll tell mom you got abducted by aliens,” Mikey deadpans.

Then he’s gone and Gerard is pulling on his tie and shuffling his feet. He’s not really eager to walk home by himself tonight but it’s not like he has a choice.

*

Gerard is surprised to see that he’s not alone in detention and he’s even more surprised when he realizes the other kid is Frank. Frank Iero from his locker. Frank Iero who likes Grant Morrison.

He’s still sporting a black eye and a busted lip, but now, there’s also a small cut on his cheek and dry blood on his chin.

Frank grins at Gerard and pushes the chair next to his, waving at Gerard to sit down. “What did you do to end up in here? Killed a guy over a PB&J sandwich?”

The nun monitoring detention doesn’t seem to care that Frank is being loud. She looks too absorbed in her reading (Gerard can tell by the cover that she’s reading a romance novel) to do her job.

Gerard sits down and points at Frank’s chin. “Did _you_ kill a guy over a sandwich?” he asks and Frank giggles, bright and happy.

“Some guys jumped me after lunch,” he replies with a shrug. “You should see them. I fucked up their fists pretty good.” He rubs at his chin with his knuckles. “I bet you can’t tell right now but I’m a pacifist.”

Sister Fluff Novels clears her throat, looks up from her book and gives Frank a disapproving glare.

“Sorry, Clara,” Frank says before turning back to Gerard. “She’s rad. She doesn’t give me any sh-” Frank presses a hand to his mouth to muffle the rest of the word.

Gerard picks up his book bag and grabs his notepad. He should probably use this time to work on his stupid essay for Sister Anne.

“This is the best seat in the house. If you look left, you can see the marching band rehearse on Thursdays,” Frank says, poking idly at Gerard’s notepad with an ink stained index finger. “And you get direct access under the cheerleaders’ skirts on Mondays if that’s your thing,” he whispers with a grimace, cupping a hand around his mouth so Sister Clara doesn’t catch that last part.

What’s under the cheerleaders’ skirt is definitely not Gerard’s thing and obviously, it’s not Frank’s thing either (the grimace he pulled is enough evidence). Gerard is far more interested in finding out how Frank knows all this.

“You’re in here a lot?” he asks, watching as Frank starts drumming his fingers against the edge of his desk. “You seem to know a lot about this place.”

“Yeah.” Frank grins.

Gerard can see blood on his bottom lip.

“Matto says I’m short tempered,” Frank mumbles, waving his fingers around, oblivious to his battle wound reopening. “Would you believe me if I told you it’s never my fault?”

Gerard frowns and says, “Your lip is bleeding.”

Frank wipes the blood off his mouth with his sleeve and smiles at Gerard, as if it’s not a big deal, as if it’s something he’s used to.

Maybe it’s because he’s Mikey’s age or maybe because some assholes think it’s funny to kick some kid’s ass because he’s short and kind of a nerd (a nerd who likes Grant Morrison, no less) but Gerard can’t help but feel bad for Frank. He feels a pang in his chest, some sort of immediate fondness for his detention companion.

That’s how Gerard makes his first friend at Queen of Peace.

*

Gerard gets a few more days’ detention added to his initial three weeks the next day because he doesn’t have the right book for Spanish and asks the guy sitting next to him to share with him.

Señora Garcia says he’s disrupting the class and being too loud, and sends him to the principal’s office where Gerard gets the same speech about respect he got the day before.

When he gets to detention, Frank is already there, vandalizing one of the desks by carving something in the wood with a paperclip, what appears to be a stick figure puking on another stick figure’s face.

“Hey, man,” Frank greets him with a wide smile. His lip looks better today and his black eye has turned a pale shade of yellow.

“Hey, Frank.”

Gerard signs the attendance sheet and goes to sit down next to Frank.

He’s trying to figure out what to write for his English essay when Frank leans over and steals his notepad.

“Homework?” he asks, crooking his mouth as he hands Gerard back his essay which is currently three words long.

“Yeah. I think Sister Anne hates me.”

“Don’t worry. It’s not just you she hates. That fucking bitch,” he whispers between gritted teeth, glancing up at Sister Clara who seems even more absorbed in her reading than usual. “What’s it about?”

“Huh?”

“The essay? What’s it about?”

Gerard sighs. “Proper introductions. Apparently, it’s not enough to tell people your name and that you’re new.”

“That blows.” Frank drags his desk closer to Gerard’s. “The thing about Sister Anne though is that you have to be a show off in her class. I’ve had to deal with her last semester and I blew her mind by being ahead of everyone on the book schedule. I read a lot so it was easy. She got tired of me pretty quick and left me alone for the rest of the term.”

“I think it might be too late for that. I stared into the darkness of her soul and the darkness stared back.”

“Bummer. I could help you with the essay though. I bullshit my teachers into giving me Bs all the time. Bullshit is my specialty.”

Frank grins and pulls Gerard’s notepad towards his desk, tapping on the three words Gerard already wrote with his pencil. “I think that’s a good start but you might want to avoid using words like motherfucker in your intro,” he says and Gerard cannot help but grin back.

*

Before Gerard knows it, it’s almost the end of his first week at Queen of Peace.  
He has a friend and a little corner at the cafeteria where he can eat lunch peacefully.

He also has a couple thousand words of nonsense rambling about how much one can learn from a first name alone.

Frank might have overused the word ‘however’ but it makes the essay ten words longer and Gerard doesn’t want to complain about that.

*

Gerard puts his things away in his book bag and watches as Frank waves at Sister Clara.

Then they both walk out of the building and stop in front of the gate to grab a smoke.

“They don’t care as long as you’re off school property,” Frank says as he lights Gerard a Camel Light.

Gerard sits on his heels on the sidewalk and hoists his bag over his shoulder.

“My mom’s working a double shift tonight,” Frank says, sitting down next to Gerard. “Otherwise she could have dropped you off home,” he adds before taking a deep drag on his cigarette.

“T’s okay. I’m used to walking.”

Principal Matto and Sister Alexandra walk past the gate a few minutes later and Gerard shields his cigarette behind his back. He doesn’t need to hear a lecture about how smoking kills, first thing tomorrow.

“Can I walk home with you tonight?” Frank asks when they finally get up. He crushes his cigarette with the sole of his sneaker and looks up at Gerard, hopeful.

“Sure.”

Gerard doesn’t really mind the company.

“I can’t wait to have my own car,” Frank says as they cross to the other side of the street and take a shortcut through the park. “My mom can’t afford it right now. We’re a little short on cash since my dad split.”

Gerard nods. He doesn’t want to pry in Frank’s life so he doesn’t ask for any details.

The park is quiet tonight, only a couple of crackheads arguing and a homeless man on a bench staring into a brown paper bag for the meaning of life. There’s a scrawny dog laid at his feet. The dog looks up and growls at them when they pass the bench.

Gerard clutches to his bag tighter and walks a little faster. The park isn’t the safest way to his house but it’s the shortest.

It’s already getting dark by the time they reach Gerard’s house, thirty minutes later. All the lights are on in the house which means Gerard’s parents are probably home.

Gerard is fiddling with his tie once again when Frank takes one step towards him, as if he was about to give Gerard a hug. Gerard would be alright with a hug. It would feel a little weird but weird is okay.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” Frank asks, bouncing on the balls of his feet and crossing his arms tight over his chest.

No hugs then.

Instead, Frank shivers and sniffles.

Maybe Gerard should ask him to come inside. He could offer him a hot chocolate or some coffee, and have his dad drop Frank home later, maybe after dinner. Gerard’s mom is making chicken casserole tonight, the only thing she manages not to burn. Maybe Frank could stay for Donna’s legendary chicken casserole.

But it’s already late, too late to have company on a school night. Besides, Frank probably lives a block or two away from here. He might not even need a ride.

Gerard replies, “Yeah. Tomorrow.”

Frank pops the collar of his jacket up and starts humming something Gerard doesn’t recognize. His tiny frame disappears into the night a moment later but Gerard can still hear him sing.

*

Gerard is almost looking forward to detention.

Every afternoon, he stares at his watch, the seconds stretching for too long. When the bell rings announcing the end of the last period, Gerard grabs his things, shoves them in his bag and rushes to the little room at the end of corridor F. _F like Frank_.

Frank is always there by the time Gerard takes his usual spot by the window and today is no exception.

It’s the last day of Gerard’s second week of detention but somehow, it feels like Gerard just met Frank. It also feels like they’ve known each other for fucking ever. It’s the strangest thing.

Gerard doesn’t need to work on any essay or overdue paper. This afternoon, Gerard brought a stack of comic books from his personal collection and Frank brought… Gerard isn’t sure what he brought but it smells very good, like the homemade cookies Frank’s mom sometimes bakes for him and puts in with his lunch.

Sister Clara is cool with pretty much anything they do. She doesn’t even look up once, not even while they’re munching on a batch of delicious white chocolate chip cookies (Gerard’s nose never fails him), and laughing about The Doom Patrol and its colorful enemies.

“The Quiz once turned someone into a toilet filled with flowers,” Gerard says between two fits of laughter, his eyes prickling with tears.

“Grant Morrison is a genius.” Frank snorts and rests his head on Gerard’s shoulder. Just like that. He rubs his cheek over Gerard’s jacket and lets out a tiny satisfied groan. “Like, an evil genius.”

Gerard hesitates. Should he lean in and touch Frank, just go with it, or should he push him away?

By the time his mind is made up (yes. He should put his hand through Frank’s hair and ruffle it), Frank is already back on his chair, hunched over the issue of The Doom Patrol they’ve been reading together and making comments about The Quiz’s ugly outfit.

Gerard’s shoulders drop. He tucks his hands under his thighs. Touching Frank’s hair is out of the question. Touching Frank’s anything is out of the question.

“So you’d have to _think_ she’s powerless to defeat her?” Frank asks, looking up from the book and staring at Gerard, expectant.

Gerard grins. “Yeah. That’s it.”

Frank gives him a triumphant smile.

He is definitely the coolest person Gerard ever met, and it’s in the realm of possibilities that Gerard is starting to develop a little crush on his new best friend.

*

“Your mom not picking you up today?” Gerard asks while he’s sitting outside on week three of Gerard’s sentence, smoking and watching cars go by with Frank at his side.

It’s already late and Frank’s mom is usually waiting for him outside when he comes out. Maybe she’s working late again tonight.

“No. Working an extra shift,” Frank replies, rubbing his hands together. “At this rate, I might have a car on my birthday,” he says before adding in a low voice, “Or you know, a new leash.”

Gerard doesn’t really get that last part but he doesn’t feel like asking for any clarification. It’s probably some kind of joke he’s too stupid to get. He smiles anyway.

Frank stands up, checks his watch and flicks his cigarette across the street. “Would it be okay if I hung out at your house for a while?” he asks when Gerard gets up.

Gerard nods. He’s actually pretty glad Frank asked.

“These guys said they might jump me on my way home and I’d rather hang out with you than get my face smashed by Dumb, Dumber, Dumberer and Dumbest.”

They walk home together, a lengthy and uncomfortable silence settling between them.

Gerard wants to know more about Frank’s bullies. He wants to know why Frank lets them beat him up, why he doesn’t report them and why in the hell the Principal keeps giving detention to the victim and not the bullies, how Frank’s teachers don’t seem to care than he comes to class with a new bruise each week.

“Your house is rad,” Frank says as soon as they reach the cement path leading up to the house, finally breaking the silence. “I bet mine is like, the size of your living room.”

Gerard searches through his pockets and manages to find his keys in the hem of his jacket. He fishes them out and unlocks the front door.

They step inside and Frank starts looking around the hallway, at the baby pictures of Gerard and Mikey, at the creepy China dolls their mom collects, at the tacky decoration on the walls, Elvis and Frank Sinatra posters, and other trinkets taking up dust in the living room.

The house is eerily quiet. Maybe Mikey is out with his friends or maybe he’s in his room doing his homework. Their dad usually comes home in time for dinner. Their mom is at the nail salon until six or seven, so she should be here any minute now.

“Do you want something to eat?” They don’t have much that isn’t frozen but Gerard could probably whip up something with the leftovers.

“Fuck yeah. I’m starving. Do you have Pop Tarts?” Frank asks, following Gerard to the kitchen.

Gerard remembers Mom bought a box last time she went grocery shopping. If Mikey didn’t take it to his room, it should still be mostly intact. Gerard retrieves the blueberry Pop Tarts in the pantry and hands them to Frank. Gerard pulls a couple of diet Cokes out of the fridge and walks back to the living room.

They settle on the couch and Gerard finds a channel that is showing reruns of ancient TV shows.

As shocking as it sounds, Frank has never seen the original Battlestar Galactica. “I don’t know. It looks so fuckin’ cheesy,” he says and Gerard decides to show him how cheesy and fantastic can actually go together, to educate him in what it’s really like to be a real nerd.

They’re not even ten minutes into their first episode when Mikey walks into the living room and stares at Gerard, his eyebrows quirked the way they always do when he’s confused about something. It does kind of looks likes the way they quirk when he’s mad at Gerard for finishing the last packet of Cheetos or the way they quirk when he wants to ask Gerard something. It’s always a little hard to figure out which one it is.

“Hey,” he says, looking at Frank with his quirked eyebrows of confusion.

Gerard waves his Coke at Frank. “Mikey, this is Frank. Frank, this is my kid brother, Mikey,” he mumbles, grabbing the remote on his thigh and cranking the sound of the TV up a notch.

“You’re Mikey Way’s brother?” Frank asks, his eyes widening, and Gerard doesn’t really see what’s so surprising about it. Everyone always tells them they look alike. “That’s awesome,” he adds, grinning at Mikey.

Mikey points at the box sat in Frank’s lap. “Blueberry Pop Tarts?”

“Yeah,” Frank replies, passing the box over to Mikey.

Mikey pulls the remaining pastry out and tosses the empty box on the table. “What are we watching?” he asks, noisily ripping the wrapping foil apart and Gerard must use all his self control to not press the volume button again.

“Battlestar Galactica,” Gerard replies as the couch dips under Mikey’s weight.

“I’ve never watched the original series,” Frank explains as he shifts more comfortably between Gerard and Mikey, crossing his legs and poking Gerard with his knee in the process. “Gerard thinks I don’t know jack shit until I’ve watched at least one episode.”

Frank shrugs off his jacket and tosses it over Gerard’s lap.

Mikey turns to Frank and gives him an incredulous look (quirked eyebrow number ten meaning he’s calling on someone’s bullshit). “Dude!”

Apparently, Frank can read Mikey pretty well, as he replies, “I know. I always had a huge boner for the new BSG. Not sure how the old one compares to it.”

“Dude. There’s no comparing. It’s like you’re trying to compare Blueberry Pop Tarts with,” Mikey ponders, raising his half eaten pastry and examining it at every possible angle. He nibbles on it and adds, “With another delicious flavor of Pop Tarts.”

Gerard shifts away from Frank, just by a few inches. The couch feels too small and even though there’s nothing wrong about being huddled together like this, Gerard suddenly feels too uncomfortable, Frank’s warmth seeping through their clothes, the delicious scent of his shampoo tingling Gerard’s nostrils.

Maybe Gerard shouldn’t have brought Frank home tonight. Maybe he should have picked a better time, maybe around the weekend when Mikey is out with his friends and when it’s just the two of them.

Mikey has plenty of friends already and it looks like he’s going to steal Gerard’s, the only one he managed to make at Queen of Peace by being his usual charming and funny self.

It’s always the same thing. Mikey opens his mouth and there, new friend. It’s a little unfair how easy it is for him. Gerard is not bitter though. He’s just a little jealous.

Gerard shouldn’t be jealous but he can’t really help himself. He wanted Frank to be his and his only. He wanted to keep him as his little secret, his friend from detention, his Doom Patrol buddy, his student in all things nerdy.

“A giant squid could never take Godzilla. You’re fucking demented,” Frank says and then he’s poking Gerard’s arm. “Gerard, tell your brother he’s insane.”

“You’re insane, Mikey,” Gerard mumbles, but the conversation has already shifted to something else, back to Battlestar Galactica and the benefits of Starbuck being a girl in the new series.

Frank takes off his tie at some point during the evening and loops it around Gerard’s left wrist. He twists it, tugs on it and then lets Gerard go, rolling the tie around his own wrist.

Gerard watches, quiet, something so rare and out of character for him that Mikey notices. He gives Gerard a pointed look and Gerard replies by shrugging a shoulder.

They watch a couple of episodes of Battlestar Galactica, Frank rubbing his knee over Gerard’s thigh every so often, his shoulder bumping into Gerard’s, and then Gerard’s mom invites Frank to stay for dinner (they’re ordering pizza tonight).

He declines politely. “My mom’s probably home now,” he says, getting off the couch, grabbing his jacket on the armrest and tucking his tie in his pocket.

Gerard walks with him up to the sidewalk. It’s cold outside and too dark to see anything past the neighbors’ house. Gerard doesn’t have his shoes on and his left sock has a hole in it, his big toe sticking out and gathering dirt on the cement driveway.

The street lights are out and the air smells like rain. Gerard can hear the TV blaring across the street and his neighbors arguing.

Frank buttons up his jacket and shuffles his feet. He bites his bottom lip and opens his mouth, like he wants to say something really important to Gerard. He looks up like he’s trying to find the moon and the stars but the sky is black, rain clouds gathering up.

“I could borrow my mom’s car,” Gerard offers, tucking his cold hands inside his jacket pockets.

“Don’t worry about me, G.,” Frank says before stepping closer. He wraps his arms around Gerard’s back, hugging him tightly.

Gerard takes a lungful of Frank, the delicious scent of his shampoo and the musky odor of his skin. He feels so warm, almost feverish against Gerard. Frank’s heart races, his breath is shaky.

They hug for a long time, so long that it’s a little weird. It gets even weirder when Frank starts rubbing himself against Gerard, like he needs to scratch an itch, something underneath his skin. He sniffs at Gerard’s hair and _growls_ , his fingers stroking Gerard’s back through his shirt.

The neighbors’ dog starts barking and Frank whines.

He lets go of Gerard, steps back into the street and tugs on the sleeves of his jacket. “Sorry,” he says in a tiny voice. He seems even more jittery than usual, like he’s about to jump out of his skin. He looks up at Gerard, his eyes huge.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” Gerard asks, trying for a comforting smile.

It doesn’t seem to work because Frank still looks in a state of panic when he scurries off, tugging on his clothes like they don’t fit him anymore.

Gerard stands on the sidewalk for a few minutes, unable to move, Frank’s warmth lingering on his clothes.

As he makes his way back inside the house, a strange thought crosses Gerard’s mind: maybe Frank _likes_ him.

*

Frank doesn’t show up for detention the next day. He doesn’t show up at school at all actually. Gerard waits for him by their locker before class and after first period but Frank doesn’t come.

Gerard tries not to think about it too much but he can’t help but worry that Frank might have been beaten to death on his way home last night. Maybe the bullies were waiting for him outside of his house; maybe they followed him when he walked out of Gerard’s house.

Maybe it wouldn’t have changed much but Gerard should have borrowed his mom’s car and he should have drove Frank home. He should have insisted more.

By Friday afternoon, Gerard is ready to send a search party to find him. He can’t concentrate in class, utterly fails a history exam, and has to sit through detention with Sister Clara and actually do his homework alone for once because there’s nothing else to do and no Frank to keep him company.

He would call him if only he had Frank’s number.

*

“I think he might have been murdered by a bunch of dickbags from school,” Gerard tells Ray on Saturday night while they’re gorging on pepperoni, ham and pineapple pizza, and watching the news. “Makes sense. That’s what I’m going to tell the cops.”

Gerard has been watching the news religiously for the past couple of days, expecting to see something about a missing teen in Belleville. Nothing so far. Just the regular political crisis and natural disasters they seem to show every day. Nothing out of the ordinary.

“I’m sure he’s fine,” Ray says, waving a dismissive hand at Gerard like Gerard’s being ridiculous.

But Gerard is not being ridiculous. He has real grounds for concern. Mainly, the fact that Frank said there were guys waiting to jump him on his way home.

“You need to tone down the superhero complex, G,” Ray says, crooking his mouth. “The kid is probably sick. Did you even stop for a second and think about that?”

Ray might be right. People get sick. They miss school. It wouldn’t be the first time it happened.

“But he wasn’t when I left him,” Gerard protests and his voice is a little more high pitched than usual.

Ray shakes his head.

Gerard _is_ being ridiculous. He can see it now. Come to think of it, Frank was acting weird when he left. Maybe he was running a fever. He certainly felt like he was.

The news is replaced by some really stupid reality show that they’re not paying attention to. Gerard turns it off and pulls the latest Green Lantern out of his comic book collection.

Ray isn’t really into comic books but he’s definitely into his third slice of pizza.

Gerard lets him have it. He’s lost his appetite anyway.

“You should see his face,” he says, flipping through the pages absently. “He’s a human punching bag. He’s being picked on just because he’s short.”

“Do you know where your vertically challenged friend lives?” Ray asks through a mouthful of pepperoni.

“No.”

“His last name?”

This, he knows. “It’s Iero.”

Ray wipes off his greasy fingers on his jeans and gets up. He digs out an old guitar magazine he must have left here the last time he came over from under the stack of unfinished sketches on Gerard’s desk. He sits back down on Gerard’s bed and says, “If he’s not back on Monday, you could ask that Doris woman to give you his address. Say you want to bring him his homework.”

It’s a pretty great idea. Gerard could swing by Frank’s house after detention on Monday and see if Frank needs anything, make sure he’s not dead, be a thoughtful friend and all that.

“Are we still on for our geek marathon next weekend?” Ray asks, tossing a stray black olive in Gerard’s direction.

“Of fucking course.”

Gerard’s parents are going to this couple’s retreat for the weekend and Gerard is planning on spending as much time as possible with Ray. He’s got a whole sleepover planned with two days of intense role playing, horror movies and junk food. It’s going to be the best weekend ever.

That is, if he’s not too busy investigating Frank’s murder.

*

To Gerard’s relief, Frank isn’t dead. He shows up at mass on Monday morning looking a little frazzled, with dark circles under his eyes and scratches all over his neck but besides that, he looks fine and alive.

Gerard’s sits down at his side and stares at him while Father Gennero makes a long sermon that’s even more boring than the one they had to sit through last week.

When Frank catches Gerard staring at him, he frowns and mouths, “What?”

Gerard shakes his head and ducks his head. He wants to ask Frank why and where he disappeared for so long but it’s not the time or place, not when Sister Anne is sitting right across from Gerard, her eyes screwed into Gerard’s. Maybe she’s trying to turn him into stone or make his head explode. Both would look pretty cool.

“Are you okay?” Frank asks him when they’re making a beeline for the exit.

“Are _you_ okay?” Gerard asks and his tone is too shrill to be anything but silly. “You fucking disappeared after the other night,” he says, lowering his voice and trying to regain his poise. “I thought you were dead.”

Frank stops in the middle of the hallway, blocking the passage to everyone, faculty included, and stares at Gerard, incredulous. Then he bursts out into a giggle fit, his arms clenched around his ribs.

Gerard grabs his arm and drags him to the side. He doesn’t need an audience for this.

“I was only gone for three days and you thought I was dead?” Frank asks, shaking his head. “Three days, dude. You’re adorable.”

“But you said,” Gerard starts, thinking about the bullies that were supposed to jump Frank on his way home. He shrugs. “Nevermind.”

When Frank is finally done laughing, he rolls his eyes and pats Gerard on the back. “Did you miss me at detention?” he asks, smirking.

Gerard hates him a little right now but he’s also happy his best friend is still among the living, his best friend who just said he was adorable.

“Not at all. It was great,” he replies, walking down the corridor to their joint locker. “I had to replace you with Sister Clara. She’s fucking classy.”

“Don’t say fuck. If you say fuck one more time you’re gonna get fucking detention,” Frank says with a tiny grin and a wink. “That bitch got bat ears,” he adds, turning to glare at Sister Anne.

Gerard wouldn’t mind getting more detention. He would actually love to do something stupid just so he could have more time to hang out with Frank. He has only four days left on his sentence.

*

“So,” Mikey says as he sits down between Gerard and Frank at their table during lunch. He wraps an arm around Gerard’s shoulders and announces, “We’re having a few friends over this weekend.”

“A party? Fuck, Mikey. You know we’re not supposed to have a party.”

Mikey shakes his head. “No. Not a party. I swear I only invited the cool people. You won’t even have to see us.”

Gerard stares at his sandwich and lets out a defeated sigh. It’s not like he has a say in this.

Maybe it won’t be a big party, just a few friends of Mikey’s playing video games, drinking and eating everything they find. With any luck, they won’t disturb Gerard’s and Ray’s epic night of movie watching and alcohol binging.

He shrugs and Mikey gives him a lopsided, small smile. “Not a party?”

“Not a party,” Mikey repeats with a nod. “You’re awesome,” he adds as he gets up and goes back to his friends a couple of tables over.

If it’s not really a party but sort of one anyway, Gerard should probably invite Frank. They’re friends and that’s what friends are supposed to do together.

“Do you want to come?” he asks, only realizing now that Frank is staring at him, biting his bottom lip and stabbing his lumpy mash potatoes with his fork.

Frank grins. “Sure.” He shoves a forkful of potatoes inside his mouth and mumbles, “I’m always up for a party at your house.”

“It’s not a party, Frankie,” Gerard points out, waving his rapidly disintegrating sandwich under Frank’s nose. “Just a gathering of cool people. I’ll be there too, the only loser of the bunch.”

“Yeah. But if I come, we can be losers together,” Frank says, leaning against Gerard and putting his hand on Gerard’s hip.

Gerard feels something stir in the pit of his stomach. He feels warm all over and giddy, too giddy to pay attention to what Sister Isabelle is babbling about Eleanor Roosevelt, long after Frank detached himself off him and wandered off to class.

*

“It’s a fucking party,” Gerard mumbles and Ray puts a hand on Gerard’s shoulder, his fingers squeezing, soothing, untying the knot in Gerard’s back.

Ray’s hands are wonderful things. A guy with hands like his shouldn’t have so much trouble finding himself a girlfriend.

“I can’t believe this,” Gerard says. He cannot believe Mikey lied to his face. Actually, Gerard knew this would happen all along. He knows Mikey. He knows Mikey’s friends too. He knows what their idea of a fun Saturday night consists of.

He just can’t believe this is happening after Mikey promised him it wouldn’t be a party.

“Maybe they’re just being really loud?” Ray says, shrugging, his fingers smearing away from Gerard’s back.

There is the sound of something shattering upstairs, hopefully, not one of Mom’s ugly dolls. _Please, let it be something his parents won’t notice is gone_.

Gerard lets out a deep, mournful sigh and says, “A guy I’ve never met came into my room while you were getting the Magic the gathering cards. He almost peed on my carpet.”

“Shit.” Ray crooks his mouth and turns his head to the TV. They’re watching a movie with Christopher Lee, a Hammer classic, _The Curse of Frankenstein_. It sounded like a good idea to watch a classic horror movie.

“I had to push him towards the bathroom,” Gerard says as he mutes the TV off. “He had his dick out and everything. I think I’ve seen enough dicks for the day.”

They can’t watch the movie now because the music upstairs is too fucking loud and Gerard doesn’t really feel like playing Magic the gathering anymore. They can’t play Dungeons and Dragons because it’s just the two of them, and you can’t play a good game of D&D with just two people. It’s not right.

All they can do is sit in the dark, chain smoke Ray’s Marlboros and drink Gerard’s liquor stash.

They’re finishing their first bottle, some cheap Vodka Gerard managed to snatch off his parents’ liquor cabinet last month, when the door opens.

Frank raps his knuckles against the frame and peers inside. “Hey?”

There’s something different about him tonight. Maybe it’s the fact that he’s wearing actual clothes and not his navy blue uniform and his tie. He’s wearing a black t-shirt and a pair of tight jeans that don’t leave much to imagination, his knees exposed through two gaping holes in the worn out fabric. His hair is disheveled and there’s some eyeliner smudged under his eyes.

He looks absolutely fantastic.

Gerard’s stomach swoops.

“Hey. I didn’t know you were here,” he says, trying to scramble up to his feet. He gives up when Frank waves at him to stay put.

Frank walks up to the bed and pokes at Gerard’s foot with the toe of his shoe. “Mikey told me you were brooding in the basement. I had to see for myself.”

He gives Ray a huge grin before turning back to Gerard.

“So?” Gerard asks, exhaling a cloud of smoke.

Frank sits down on Gerard’s bed and hooks his legs over Gerard’s shoulders. “It’s a party,” he says, snatching the cigarette and the bottle of empty Vodka from Gerard’s fingers.

“Figured.”

Frank topples the bottle of Vodka over and throws it onto the bed. “I think someone’s having sex in your bathroom,” he says, nonchalant, after taking a drag on Gerard’s cigarette.

“I’m gonna fucking kill Mikey.” Gerard runs a hand through the knots in his hair and tilts his head back, resting it into Frank’s lap.

Frank tucks the smoke back between Gerard’s lips and strokes at the nape of Gerard’s neck.

Gerard lets out a moan and shuts his eyes. _Fuck. This is good. This is so fucking good._

“Glad I can help,” Frank says in a low voice, almost a whisper and Gerard realizes that he said this out loud.

He feels himself blush but doesn’t try to pull away.

“You want me to check up on him?” Ray asks as he gets up. “Make sure everything’s okay?”

Gerard should probably go and take care of this himself but he’s not sure he can move now. Moving away from here would mean moving away from Frank’s fingers, away from his warmth and the way he smells and the way he’s pressed against Gerard’s back. “Thanks, Toro,” he replies.

Ray nods emphatically at Gerard and heads upstairs.

“That was Toro,” Frank says as he slides off the bed and sits next to Gerard on the carpet.

“Yup. The one and only.”

Frank hooks an arm around Gerard’s and pulls lightly.

“You should go upstairs,” he says with a halfhearted smile. “There’s beer and shit. You don’t have to talk to anyone if you don’t feel like it.”

“I have Tequila here,” Gerard says, producing a brand new bottle of liquor. “Tequila and a Frank.”

Frank smirks and says, “A Frank who scored some pot tonight.”

“See? We don’t need no stinkin’ party,” Gerard drawls. He opens the bottle of Tequila and takes a swig before putting the bottle in Frank’s hands.

Frank takes a sip and grimaces. He passes the bottle back to Gerard and digs out a battered pack of Camels from his back pocket.

“I’m sorry I disappeared last week,” he says, emptying the content of the pack in his lap, a lighter, some rolling paper, a couple of cigarettes, filters he seemed to have made out of an old pack of cigarette and a neat bundle wrapped in aluminum foil.

“I might have overreacted a bit,” Gerard mumbles, watching Frank’s fingers assemble everything into one of the most perfect joint Gerard has ever seen.

“I should have told you I’d be gone for a few of days,” he mumbles, his tongue darting out of his mouth to lick at the rolling paper.

Gerard can’t help himself. He needs to stare at Frank, at his pink tongue, at his shiny lips open, curved into an easy smile.

“I think we should have each other’s phone numbers,” he eventually mumbles.

Frank burps. Then he spits out a few particles of tobacco onto the rug and takes a long look at his handiwork. “I had no idea you’d worry about me,” he says, raising an eyebrow at Gerard and waving his hands. “I tend to do that a lot. Go missing for a few days. But you’re right, we should definitely exchange phone numbers.”

“Everything okay?” Gerard asks, bumping his shoulder against Frank’s.

Frank looks up and shrugs. “Yeah. Family stuff. It’s just—”

The rest of the sentence doesn’t come. Frank is probably not ready to talk about his problems at home.

Gerard watches Frank put the final touch to their joint, licking a tiny spot that seems reluctant to stick.

“All done,” Frank says with a giggle.

“You roll like a pro,” Gerard says, snorting down the bottle of Tequila.

“Think I could make a career outta this?” Frank grins and tucks the joint between his lips. He lights it, takes a couple of drags and exchanges it for the bottle in Gerard’s hands.

The music upstairs only gets louder after this. Gerard recognizes a few things he likes by Iron Maiden, The Misfits and The Killers. Then Gerard is too drunk to make out anything but the faint melody and the rhythmic thud of the bassline.

“Fuck. Is that Katy Perry?” Frank asks at some point and Gerard shrugs because he has absolutely no idea. Everything sounds the same now.

They watch the movie on mute for a while, giggling like idiots at random moments that are probably not supposed to be funny, like every time the creature appears on screen.

Frank is finishing up the joint when Gerard leans in and whispers in his ear, “You look hot in normal clothes.”

It just comes out, like the filter that prevents Gerard to say embarrassing things is out of order tonight.

Actually, it seems like his entire brain is out of order because he grabs Frank’s thigh and starts stroking it slowly, the fabric rough against his fingertips. He’s not really thinking about what he’s doing. It just feels good and Frank doesn’t seem to mind.

“Shut up. You’re drunk,” Frank mumbles, slapping a hand over Gerard’s chest, his fingers twisting in Gerard’s t-shirt.

“You’re high,” Gerard retorts with a chuckle.

Frank rests his head on Gerard’s shoulder and nuzzles at his neck, at his hair, at his throat. He groans, low and his breath brushes up against Gerard’s neck.

 _Shit._ Gerard should have showered today. He’s not prepared for this, hot guys nuzzling at him like this, like something else is about to happen.

Frank presses his lips against the crook of Gerard’s neck, and that’s it.

Just like that, Gerard is hard, his dick pulsing inside his shorts, pressing against the zipper of his jeans. Gerard is horny and drunk and touching his best friend in inappropriate ways. Or maybe it’s totally appropriate as long as they’re both fully clothed. Maybe best friends can do this, stroke each other while being intoxicated, plant kisses on each other’s necks.

Gerard never did this with Ray. It just never crossed his mind.

Frank mumbles something against Gerard’s throat, tugs on his t-shirt and stares at Gerard through heavy lidded eyes, his pupils blown.

The door swings open and the music pours inside the room, some pop shit from the radio.

Gerard quickly removes his hand from Frank’s thigh, pressing the bottle of Tequila over his boner and Frank turns around in slow motion, his fingers letting go of Gerard’s wrinkled t-shirt.

Mikey never knocks, _the asshole_.

“Are you coming out?” he asks, prying Frank’s fingers open and stealing a couple of drags from what’s left of their joint. “We have a keg now,” he adds, frowning at Gerard’s now empty bottle of Tequila. “We have food too,” he says, looking at Frank this time.

Frank stirs and scrambles to his feet. He staggers to the door, looking back at Gerard as he asks, “You comin’?”

“I’ll be right there.”

Gerard looks down at his bottle of Tequila. There’s a bottle of Gin somewhere in his room, maybe stashed away under the bed too or in his sock drawer; he can’t really remember. There’s another horror movie starting on TV and Gerard could watch that.

But the joint is gone and along with it, Frank.

Gerard doesn’t want to stay here like a loser, all alone, while Frank is upstairs, making new friends, better friends than him.

He stands up on rubbery legs and tosses the bottle of Tequila into the trashcan by the door. Slowly, he makes his way upstairs. Maybe he could go upstairs for a few minutes, just to get a snack and a few beers.

But only for a few minutes then.

*

When Gerard wakes up, his face is stuck to the carpet, a puddle of drool and beer under his cheek.

It looks like he might have fallen off the bed during the night. His jeans are rolled down around his ankles, his t-shirt bunched up over his shoulders. Also, there’s someone snoring in his bed.

Gerard doesn’t remember that part; the part where he brought someone into his room and pulled his pants down in front of them.

He moans, crawls onto his knees and wipes off his face with the back of his hand. He peers at the bump under his duvet. There’s a mop of frizzy ginger hair on the pillow.

Ray. He spent the night. That was the plan.

Gerard doesn’t remember much from last night. He remembers a thing or two like Frank nuzzling at his neck and Gerard’s hands being a little adventurous.

It was probably because of the pot and the alcohol. Hopefully, Frank doesn’t remember much of what happened either.

Gerard gets up. Everything is spinning and his head is pounding. He sits down on the edge of the bed and buries his face between his hands.

When he makes a second attempt at getting up, Gerard’s stomach leaps, growls and then Gerard has to rush out of his room so he doesn’t puke on his already sticky carpet.

He reaches the bathroom just in time and hunches over the bowl.

There’s a faint tap on the door but Gerard’s mouth is full of bile, beer and what could be the leftovers Chinese he had for dinner yesterday, and there’s no way he can answer.

The door creaks open behind him and someone puts a hand over the crown of his head.

“You want breakfast?” Mikey asks and Gerard pushes his hair out of his face so he can glare at him in reply.

Gerard can’t even think about food right now. He gags and spits out a wad of bile.

“I bet you’ll be hungry once you’re done,” Mikey mumbles. “Pete went to IHOP and grabbed us some waffles and pancakes.”

Gerard’s stomach churns at the idea of waffles. He takes a couple of deep breaths and pukes until there’s nothing left in his stomach.

He sits down by the bowl, panting, and watches Mikey brush his teeth.

Mikey looks way too chirpy this morning. It’s not natural to look this good after a drinking binge.

“I might need some help cleaning later,” he says, spitting in the sink and handing Gerard a glass of tap water.

Gerard drinks it in one gulp. It tastes wrong, like rust and puke. He hands the glass back to Mikey and levers himself up using the edge of the sink. He pushes Mikey out of the way and stares at his pale reflection in the mirror. He grumbles, splashes some water on his face and combs his hair with his fingers.

When he’s looking a little more like a human being, Gerard climbs upstairs, avoiding stepping on a pile of bodies curled up in front of Mikey’s room.

The smell of fresh waffles is faint but it’s all Gerard’s nose picks up at first. Gerard’s stomach grumbles. Mikey was right. He could eat anything right now.

When Gerard reaches the top of the stairs, he’s a little terrified by the state of the kitchen and temporarily forgets he’s famished.

It looks like someone attempted to make S’mores in the microwave but didn’t clean up after themselves, leaving a sticky mess of chocolate, melted marshmallow and crumbs of Graham crackers on every surface. There’s a trail of marshmallow fluff leading out of the kitchen that’s going to be a bitch to clean.

It doesn’t smell so much like waffles anymore but like beer and stale tobacco.

Gerard shakes his head at the disaster. Hopefully, they still have plenty of time to fix everything before their parents come back.

He grabs a plate from the dish rack, ignores the red plastic cups floating in the sink, steals a couple of waffles from the box on the counter, and drags his feet into the hallway.

Gerard accesses the damages as he walks around the house and cracks open every window as he goes.

The living room doesn’t look too bad. His mom’s extensive collection of China dolls is still there on its shelves. Nothing seems broken, just a few cans of beer on the furniture. It should be easy to pick everything up.

Someone’s asleep on the couch. All Gerard can see is a pair of feet and hairy legs sticking out on the armrest.

Gerard grabs a corner of the blanket and tugs on it.

The guy curls into a ball and groans, “What the fuck.”

Gerard drops the blanket back onto him and shrugs. He can deal with this later. After he’s had breakfast and about ten more cups of coffee.

Gerard continues his exploration of the house with the upstairs bathroom and the laundry room.

The laundry room looks pretty much like it did yesterday, undisturbed; mountains of dirty clothes piled up in a corner and waiting to be washed.

The bathroom looks like a war zone. Gerard is considering boarding it up forever and trying a Jedi mind trick on his parents to convince them it never existed.

Someone puked in the sink. Then they proceeded to wipe off their fingers on the mirror, spreading green and yellow bits and pieces everywhere into a seemingly random pattern.

After this, Gerard’s not really hungry anymore. He leaves his half eaten waffle on top of the cupboard by the bathtub and walks away from the chaos.

When he pushes the door to their parents’ bedroom, Gerard isn’t expecting to find someone in the bed.

Gerard pokes at the intruder, shoving at their shoulder urgently. “Wake up and get lost,” he shouts.

It turns out that the intruder is none other than Frank. He rolls from underneath the covers and stares at Gerard with huge, terrified eyes.

“What?” he croaks, stumbling out of bed, his feet tangled up in the ugly flower patterned bedspread. “You said I could crash here.”

Gerard opens his mouth to answer. That’s when he notices Frank isn’t wearing much, just a pair of boxer shorts that’s a little too revealing.

Frank looks tinier and thinner than usual. Also, Frank has a boner. His dick looks thicker and shorter than Gerard’s from here. It’s a very nice dick. Gerard’s under caffeinated brain can’t really take all of the extra information.

“You slept here?” he asks, even though he already knows the answer. But somehow, it’s the only thing he’s able to say.

Frank seems to notice Gerard staring at him like a creeper and shields his frail body with a pillow. “Yeah. I’m gonna go now. I’m sorry,” he mumbles, ducking his head and scrambling around for his clothes.

“No. No, Frank,” Gerard says, waving frantically. “I didn’t mean it like this. I had no idea you stayed the night, that’s all.”

Frank doesn’t look up when he mumbles, “Hmm. Ok.” He kneels down by the side of the bed and starts pulling the bed apart.

Gerard watches him for a few seconds and then he asks, “You want breakfast?”

Frank stops for a minute and replies, “I should go home. My mom…” A shadow passes on Frank’s face. He ducks his head again and adds, “My mom worries a lot.”

Gerard can understand worrying about Frank very well. He sits at the edge of his parents’ bed and watches as Frank fumbles with the bed sheets.

“I can’t find my clothes,” he says when he finally stops and sits down across from Gerard. “Did you see my clothes anywhere?” he asks, dropping the pillow and wrapping a sheet around his hips.

Gerard didn’t see anything on his way here but they have to be somewhere. “I can look around,” he offers while Frank checks under the bed again.

They find Frank’s shoes up on the fridge and a Joy Division t-shirt that’s not even Frank’s but that fits him under the couch. They don’t find his pants though and after ten minutes, Frank calls off the search.

“I can drop you home. My mom left her car.”

“That’d be awesome. But you know what would be even more awesome?” Frank asks, pulling the t-shirt down to his thighs. “Fucking pants.”

“You could borrow mine,” Gerard offers. He has a few pairs in his closet that could fit Frank, maybe a clean one he could spare.

“I think one of Mikey’s friends hid them. Fuck. I kinda loved these jeans.”

“I’ll keep an eye out for them. I swear.”

Frank smiles but it’s not very convincing. He looks tired but resigned, like he knows what’s waiting for him at home. Probably a lecture on how to be more responsible. Gerard never really had one of those but that’s because his mom is cool.

Gerard drops Frank at the corner of a street, maybe a block from downtown Belleville.

“It’s probably better if my mom doesn’t hear or see a car,” Frank says as he stumbles out of the car in Gerard’s pants which are a bit too large for him. He pulls them up and waves goodbye before rushing down the street.

Gerard doesn’t see where Frank lives. One second, he’s there, pulling Gerard’s pants up and the next, he’s gone, his tiny frame disappearing behind a bush.

*

Cleaning up the house isn’t that difficult after all.

Pete, Ray and one of Ray’s friends, a guy named Bob, stay over to help and everything looks pretty much as it did before in less than three hours.

They throw out a few things, shards of glass from a broken vase Gerard didn’t know they had in the first place, a box of tissue that’s soaked in beer and blood, and a few issues of Cosmo that are smudged with chocolate that their mom won’t even miss.

Gerard is playing Halo and waiting for his parents’ car to pull off into the driveway when Ray says, “You know, I really liked Frank.”

Gerard’s character dies in the game. He gets shot by some invisible assailant. Gerard’s always been really bad at this; at videogames in general.

Gerard looks up from his controller, drops it into his lap and asks, “You really liked him? Did you guys get to talk?”

Ray nods.

“I mean, I think he likes the same bands we like. And he likes Grant fucking Morrison. It’s great that you guys hit it off.”

“He’s great.”

Gerard hides his grin behind the rim of a can of Coke but can feel himself blushing uncontrollably.

Ray returns to his game. He probably didn’t notice anything.

“I think you should let Frank in on our secret handshake,” Mikey says, matter-of-factly, throwing his controller over to Ray. He gets off the couch and steals Gerard’s pack of smokes from the coffee table.

“You have a secret handshake?” Bob asks, frowning. “I didn’t know that.”

“We could have one. And only you guys could know about it,” Mikey replies, searching Gerard’s pockets for a lighter.

Gerard digs it out from the back pocket of his jeans, tosses it to Mikey and mutters, “That’s lame.”

Mikey lights his cigarette and throws the pack into Gerard’s lap before disappearing into the kitchen. He’ll get over it soon enough. Pete follows him there.

“Does he play D&D?” Ray asks as he fiddles with his controller. “We could use someone new. Bob doesn’t know how to play.”

Gerard shrugs. He never even thought to ask. “I don’t think he does.”

“You should ask him.”

Gerard hums in reply. It would be great if Frank played D&D. Gerard would have another excuse to hang out with him outside of school.

“You should ask him where he gets his weed too,” Mikey says just as the front door opens and their mom stumbles in with her luggage.

*

On Monday morning, Gerard doesn’t find Frank waiting for him by their locker like he sometimes does.

Gerard decides to leave him a note. He writes up a set of basic questions on a piece of paper he tears off his notepad.

Things like, _Where did you grow up? Do you like chocolate or vanilla better? Do you play D &D? If you could have any superpower, which one would it be and why?_

He skips the question about the weed. That’s not something he really wants to know.

He tucks the note inside the book Frank’s been reading this past couple of weeks, _Geek Love_ , a few pages after Frank’s bookmark (a ticket stub for a Bouncing Souls gig from last year).

Then Gerard walks to English class with Sister Anne, a lump in his stomach, his insides twisting.

When the period ends, Gerard goes back to the locker to grab his pre-calc homework and finds a reply from Frank on top of his lunch.

Gerard doesn’t read the note until he’s sitting behind his desk, waiting for the class to start.

The gist of it is that Frank was born in Belleville (he drew a map of his neighborhood to illustrate his answer), likes chocolate ice cream because chocolate makes everything better, doesn’t play D&D but would be more than willing to if Gerard is the one to teach him, and would like to control people’s minds like a Jedi because he could convince the assholes who pick on him and call him a fag to make out with each other in front of the entire school.

Gerard smiles when he sees a new set of questions at the bottom of the page. Frank wants to know if Gerard ever snuck out of his house to go to a show, if he ever broke a bone. He wants to know what Gerard’s favorite candy bar is and when is Gerard’s birthday. He drew a tiny bat at the bottom of the note with a speech bubble that says _Meet me behind the gym tonight_.

The notes become something of a routine. Gerard leaves one for Frank each morning and finds one waiting for him in the locker every afternoon.

In the span of a week, Gerard learns that Frank hates broccoli because it tastes like fart, that he has some sort of stomach disease that prevents him from eating meat, that he’s lactose intolerant, that his favorite day of the year is Halloween because it’s also his birthday, that Aquaman isn’t the worst dressed superhero but that Superman might be and that the little scar on the bridge of his nose he hates so much is from when he had chicken pox back in elementary school.

The notes don’t prevent them from meeting for lunch every day and from hanging out at Gerard’s house every afternoon.

They mostly spend time in Gerard’s room watching horror movies and talking about the apocalypse and death and what they’d look like as zombies.

Gerard even draws them as zombies. Frank looks pretty great as a zombie. Actually, Frank looks pretty great as anything.

*

They’re waiting for Mikey to get a DVD in his room, Frank lying with his head in Gerard’s lap when Gerard realizes he wants to kiss Frank.

It hits him sort of suddenly, while he’s pushing a lock of Frank’s hair away from his face. He really wants to press his lips against Frank and see what it’s like, if Frank is a good kisser (he looks like a great kisser), if it would make things weird between them.

Maybe Frank’s been waiting for this since they met. Maybe he’s been waiting for Gerard to make the first move.

Or maybe he’s going to punch Gerard in the face and tell him he’s insane, that there is nothing there and that he never wants to see Gerard again because he doesn’t like him like that.

Gerard hesitates for a few minutes. He stares into Frank’s eyes and tries to read him, tries to read the signals, whatever the signals should be in this case. He curls a hand around Frank’s throat and strokes his chin with his thumb.

This is it. He’s going to kiss Frank now. He’s really going to kiss Frank. He’s going to do it with his mouth open and he’s going to use his tongue like he did that one time with Amy Sheridan.

Gerard pulls his hand away at the very last second and stirs under Frank. He sits up and Frank’s head slides off his lap.

Frank whines and rolls onto his side. He frowns at Gerard, looking a little confused.

“Can I bum you a smoke?” he asks, reaching for the pack of cigarettes on Gerard’s nightstand.

Gerard lets out a sigh. Tomorrow will be the day. Definitely. “Sure.”

“I think there’s a werewolf in the neighborhood,” Mikey announces when he finally reappears, flopping onto the bed and taking Gerard’s place next to Frank.

Gerard smirks. “A werewolf?”

Mikey nods. “Animal attacks. Apparently, something ate Mrs Bradberry’s poodle two months ago and then last month; full moon; the neighbors’ dog,” he says, using his fingers to quote, “ _ran away_.”

“I always hated that dog,” Gerard says, turning to look at Frank.

There’s something weird about him now. Frank looks really pale and his eyes are wide, his mouth crooked. He bites his bottom lip and stares at his knees peering through the holes in his jeans.

“It tried to bite me,” Gerard explains as he reaches across the bed and pokes at Frank’s elbow. “I swear I don’t hate dogs in general.”

Frank gives him a lukewarm smile before turning to the TV.

Gerard has no idea what he did wrong but now he’s convinced Frank is hiding something from him .

*

One night, Gerard and Frank are walking home together, arguing about sequels and book to movie adaptations (Frank seems to think sequels can kick the original movie’s ass while Gerard thinks they’re an insult to the audience’s intelligence) when they cut through the park.

It has its usual lot of crackheads and homeless people with dogs (that always growl at them for no reason). Nothing to be worried about.

They’re almost at the east gate when a group of boys, most of them Gerard’s age or older cuts in front of them, surrounding them, wolfish grins and whispers making Gerard uncomfortable and frankly, a little scared too.

“What are you doing here, fags?” one of the tallest bullies asks. He doesn’t seem to have a neck, just a patch of dubious facial hair growing on his chin. His eyebrows are bushy and messy.

No one answers. Frank just clenches his fists and looks at Gerard.

“Are you his boyfriend?” the bully asks and Gerard shakes his head. He wouldn’t mind being Frank’s boyfriend but that’s beside the point.

The group laughs. They sound like hyenas. Then the asshole with the dubious facial hair steps forward and stands a few inches away from Frank. He puts a hand on Frank’s shoulder and pushes him.

Gerard doesn’t usually pick fights. He steers away from trouble whenever possible but it looks like tonight isn’t the case. There’s five of them and only two of them. This doesn’t look like it’s going to be fair.

“Where are you going, Frankie boy?” the asshole asks, shoving at Frank again. “You know you have to pay the toll to go through.”

“Fuck you, Gene.”

“Fuck me? Fuck you.”

Gene shoves at Frank a little harder and Frank almost loses his balance. He takes a couple of steps back, trying to avoid confrontation but Gene is upon him again within seconds.

“Fuck you,” Frank mutters between gritted teeth.

Gene shoves at Frank once more and Gerard hears someone say, “Leave him alone, you douchenozzle.”

It takes him a few seconds to realize he’s the one who spoke.

If Gerard dies tonight, at least, he’ll try to look as brave as possible since Frank is beside him. He doesn’t want to look like a wimp.

Gene turns to Gerard, a grin pasted on his ugly face.

“What did you say, buttplug?”

Gerard never sees the punch coming.

Something hard cracks against his jaw. He feels like his teeth are about to fall, his brain shuts off for an instant, and then he’s on the floor, his ass on the sand, only a short distance from that dog shit they passed not a minute ago.

There’s a moment where everything seems to have stopped. Gene is standing above Gerard with his stupid smile, his crooked teeth exposed and his hand curled into a fist. He turns to his friends in slow motion, his shoulders shaking as he laughs.

Then time picks up the slack.

Frank jumps on Gene. Then he starts kicking him in the groin, pounds his fist on the neckless bully’s face, cracking his nose, chipping a couple of his teeth.

Gene never has the upper hand. He just recoils and tries to protect his face from Frank’s fists.

Gerard watches baffled as Frank turns into something not human. He shouts insults at Gene while turning his face into a bloody pulp. His furry is something Gerard has never seen before.

Gene’s friends are a little late to intervene. They’re probably just as shocked as Gerard to see what Frank, tiny adorable Frank, is capable of. When they finally move, Frank turns on them and growls menacingly.

One of them grabs Gene by the collar of his school jacket and pulls him up to his feet, pulls him to safety while the other two drag Frank away, kicking and screaming.

Gerard doesn’t see what happens then because there’s a tree blocking his view. He tries to get up but his head spins. He spits a wad of saliva mixed in with blood.

“Don’t you fucking touch him ever again,” he hears Frank shout, breathless.

The defeated bullies scatter out of the park a minute later, with broken noses, bloody mouths, torn school uniforms.

Gerard is trying to get up again when Frank reappears, the blood of his enemies on his shirt, his tie loose around his neck.

He picks Gerard up off the floor, his face flushed, his knuckles white and a cut under his left eye. He grins at Gerard, and for some reason, it gives Gerard the heebee jeebees.

“You okay?” Frank asks, sounding out of breath. He wipes the blood and sweat off his face with his sleeve and ruffles his hair.

Gerard presses the back of his hand on the underside of his jaw and gasps. It feels tender. He opens his mouth to speak but the throbbing in his jaw stops him. He mumbles, “’ine” as he rubs at his chin.

Frank reaches out and pushes a lock of hair out of Gerard’s eyes. He strokes Gerard’s lips before crouching at his feet to pick up their book bags, shoving everything back at random.

When he looks up at Gerard, the grin is gone. Frank gives Gerard a crooked smile that’s more like him and Gerard feels stupid. He doesn’t need to be scared of Frank. Frank is his best friend.

“Who were these guys?” Gerard eventually asks when Frank hands him back his things.

“My nemesis. Nemesises?” Frank shrugs. He pats on Gerard’s back, dusting off his jacket.

Gerard nods. His brain is still too mushy to think. He slings his bag on his shoulder and follows Frank out of the park, stroking his jaw and spitting another wad of blood on the sidewalk.

They’re almost home when Gerard looks up from his shoes. Frank is oddly quiet.

“Are you okay?” Gerard asks, the pain in his jaw making a triumphant return.

“Great,” Frank replies with a sigh. “That was awesome. Wasn’t it awesome?”

“It was…” Gerard smiles. “It was fun. I guess.” His definition of fun seems to differ from Frank’s.

“Right?”

“I don’t think they’ll come after you again.” Gerard is pretty sure Gene shat his pants. The chance of him coming back at Frank seems unlikely.

“You think?”

“You were a little scary back there,” Gerard admits.

“Did I freak you out?” Frank asks and he looks like the one who’s freaked out now.

Gerard shakes his head. Bad move. It feels like his brain is about to burst out of his skull.

“Cool. Cause that wasn’t my intention. I just couldn’t let them touch you,” he says just as they reach Gerard’s driveway.

“I appreciate that.” And it’s not a lie. Gerard’s thankful that Frank took his defense.

Frank stops by the Ways’ rusty mailbox. He shuffles his feet and plays with a loose thread of his jacket. “I usually don’t go all ballistic on their asses but that fucktard hurt you. I swear I’m not like that. Told you I’m a pacifist.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m okay.”

Frank smiles and Gerard’s stomach swoops.

“I’m glad you are.”

They should have kissed then. It was the perfect moment. Gerard could have just reached and pulled Frank closer. He could have pressed his lips over Frank’s and it would have been perfect.

But Gerard is about to make a move _Hallefuckinglujah_ when Mikey calls out from the front door.

“What happened to your faces?” he asks, his tone flat, as if he didn’t really care to hear the answer.

“We were in a fight,” Frank replies, a bit too cheerful.

Gerard wants to add that Frank was the one actually in a fight. Gerard was on the floor the entire time, nursing his throbbing jaw and watching Frank turn into a psychopath. Gerard didn’t even get to throw a punch.

Frank doesn’t say anything about that to Mikey so Gerard figures he shouldn’t, either. He nods and follows Frank inside the house.

*

The next day is the day Gerard turns eighteen. It starts pretty much like any other school day except Gerard’s jaw still hurts like a motherfucker.

Gerard palms his cock through his pajamas, rubs at his chin, turns off his alarm clock, rolls out of bed, gets dressed, asks Mikey to do his stupid tie and sits at the breakfast table.

“Happy birthday,” Mom whispers softly as she puts a box of Dunkin Donuts in front of him. She doesn’t say anything about the state of his face which means it’s probably not so bad. She plants a kiss on Gerard’s temple and smiles as he opens the box.

It’s sort of a tradition they instituted a few years ago. Every birthday starts with a box of fresh donuts, Boston cream for Gerard and jelly and sprinkles for Mikey.

Gerard picks one and gives his mom a lopsided grin. “Thanks, Mom.” His jaw still feels a little sore. He’s lucky there’s no visible bruise underneath the thin coat of powder he put on his face to make him look more like a vampire.

Her smile widens and she exchanges a meaningful glance with Gerard’s dad across the table.

Don grins, nods and gets up.

Gerard doesn’t really expect anything big or expensive for his birthday. His parents aren’t made of money and Gerard would be more than happy with a gift certificate or twenty bucks so he can buy a couple of things at the comic book store or a new CD.

When his dad drops a set of keys on top of his box of donuts, Gerard stares at it incredulously. He doesn’t get it. What is it supposed to mean? Maybe it’s his dad’s way to tell him he can have his mom’s car for the day; that he won’t have to take the bus to school today.

But the keys aren’t his mom’s.

The keychain looks new. Maybe it’s his present, a new keychain so he stops losing his keys all the time. It would be a stupid present though because Mikey got a new bicycle for his birthday and a bike is cooler than a keychain. Any way you look at it.

Gerard doesn’t want to make a scene. He picks up the keychain and pockets it with a weak smile.

“Elena helped. We all pitched in,” Mom says, patting Gerard’s arm.

They all pitched in for a keychain? It must be a really expensive keychain then. “Er. Thanks.”

“You don’t want to have a look at it?” his dad asks, frowning.

“It’s very nice,” Gerard replies, digging through his pocket to grab the keychain. He dangles it in front of his half eaten Boston cream donut.

Mikey smacks him upside the head and rolls his eyes at him. He grabs the keychain out of Gerard’s hands and walks out.

Gerard follows them outside. Now he’s starting to have an idea of what is gift could be but it’s impossible. His parents don’t have the money for it. They can’t afford something that big. Not now.

There’s a car in the driveway where his mom usually parks.

“It’s not brand new but it’s still a very good deal,” Dad says, putting his hand on the hood.

“Your dad knows this man at work who used to work at an auto shop. He offered to fix it.”

They got him a car? His own car? Gerard stands in front of the gray Subaru, slack jawed and a little confused. He has a car.

Gerard walks up to the driver’s side and tries the door. It opens with an alarming creak and a pop, like it’s about to fall off its hinges. He seats down behind the wheel and starts touching everything. The mirrors, the radio, a bunch of random levers he probably should not pull without knowing what they do.

“We will help you pay for gas until you get a job,” Gerard’s dad says as he pats Gerard’s shoulder.

“I got you the keychain and this,” Mikey says, pointing at the air freshener, a yellow pine tree that’s supposed to smell like vanilla but smells more like...nothing much at all.

Gerard has a hard time letting go of the wheel so Mikey has to pull him out of the car.

They walk back to the house and Gerard’s dad starts rambling about the cost of having insurance and the cost of gas and how Gerard needs to be a responsible driver if he wants to keep his car.

The keys in Gerard’s pocket rattle as he walks back o the house. Gerard rushes to finish his breakfast, his eyes searching for the Subaru parked in his driveway, a smirk that seems permanently stuck to his face.

This morning, Gerard drives to school. He actually _drives his own car to school_ and circles around the parking lot for at least five minutes before finding a good parking spot.

The Subaru might not be as new and pretty as the cars parked around it but its Gerard’s. It’s perfect.

*

Gerard is still grinning like a goon by lunchtime.

“We could put some bitchin’ stickers on the back,” Frank suggest as he paces around the car, touching everything, the mirrors, the handles, the hood, as if his eyes were not enough. “Like, if you can read this: fuck you and your mom.”

Gerard laughs. His jaw throbs as a reminder of last night’s fight.

Frank circles around the car once more before joining Gerard by the passenger door. He leans against it and wraps an arm around Gerard’s waist. “Happy birthday, man,” he says before digging a neatly wrapped package out from the front pocket of his hoodie, and shoving it in Gerard’s hands. “I got you something too.”

“What is it?” Gerard asks as he tears off the paper. Frank doesn’t answer.

It’s a mix CD. It looks like every other mix CD Frank is keeping in his locker except this one has a little sticker on the case that says ‘Happy birthday, Geezy’.

“I made the cover myself,” Frank says with a proud smile.

Gerard opens the case and looks at the cover. The drawing is of a robot vampire, eating a big birthday cake. It’s pretty good. Then Gerard turns the CD over and looks at the track listing, jotted down in Frank’s chicken scratch.

Gerard looks up from his birthday present and wraps an arm around Frank’s shoulder. “Wow. Thanks, Frank.”

“I put Jim Carroll in there,” Frank says, leaning closer to point at track number three on the mix. “And some Danzig too. You like Danzig, right?” he asks, rubbing his shoulder against Gerard’s.

“I love Danzig.”

The fact is Gerard loves anything Frank loves. Frank and his impeccable taste in music and clothes and hair product. Frank and his stupid face and his soft fingers and his droopy eyelids. Frank and the way he fights, dirty and raw.

Gerard slips the CD in his book bag and gives Frank a small smile.

“Do you wanna go to the movies some time?” Frank asks as he scrabbles for the pack of smokes in Gerard’s jacket pocket. “We could go in your car. Mikey could come too.”

“Yeah. Sure,” Gerard replies even though he’d rather go to the movies _without_ Mikey. He’d rather be alone with Frank. In the dark. Their knees bumping into each other and their arms touching on the armrest. He’d rather this be a date.

*

Frank disappears a week and a half later.

He doesn’t tell Gerard that he’s going. He doesn’t look sick or anything. He just vanishes without a warning, before they even have time to go on their movie date.

The only thing that seems a little off about Frank the few days leading to his mysterious disappearance is the way he acts around Gerard.

Gerard can’t quite put his finger on it but Frank looks like he wants to drag him in Gerard’s car and fuck him in the backseat during lunch break.

Gerard isn’t necessarily against the idea but it still feels a little odd.

Frank doesn’t say he wants to fuck Gerard. He doesn’t actually drag Gerard anywhere but he’s touchier than usual, seeking Gerard’s contact every time they see each other.

On Tuesday, he’s rubbing himself all over Gerard in the cafeteria, nuzzling at Gerard’s neck, his hands going places they shouldn’t go, not in public anyway. And on Wednesday, Frank isn’t here anymore.

Gerard doesn’t waste his time worrying about Frank and how he might have been beaten to death or kidnapped by space pirates. After leaving a couple of messages on Frank’s voicemail, he swings by Doris McIntosh’s office during lunch period on Thursday and pretends he’s Frank’s lab partner.

“See, we have some homework and I should probably—” he mumbles, twisting his hands together. He should have prepared what he was going to say. He’s a terrible liar.

Doris waves at him dismissively. “Name?”

“Huh.” Gerard wasn’t expecting it to be this easy. “Iero. Frank.”

Frank’s record appears on Doris’ screen, a tiny picture of Frank where he’s grinning like a fool, his class schedule, and a long list of misdemeanors.

Doris writes down Frank’s address on a post-it note and hands it to Gerard. “Anything else?” she asks, frowning and pushing her glasses back on the bridge of her nose.

Gerard shakes his head. “Thanks,” he says before walking out of the office, the post-it note with Frank’s address squeezed in his fist.

*

The plan is to go to Frank’s after school, interrogate his mom about his whereabouts and in the event Frank is home, hang out with him for a while, maybe on Frank’s bed. Maybe Gerard could let Frank fondle him and nuzzle him.

Mikey decides at the last minute that he doesn’t want to take the bus.

“Someone peed in the back and it smells rank,” he whines, dropping in the passenger seat and throwing his book bag on the back seat.

“I gotta drop by Frank’s first. Maybe you should—” Gerard starts. He’s about to suggest Mikey to walk home for once when Mikey interrupts him by cranking the radio up.

Gerard sighs. Once again, his plans are foiled.

“I’ll wait in the car,” Mikey says, barely looking up from his phone.

Gerard parks the car in front of a small gravel driveway and steps out. He double-checks he has the right address and walks up the driveway to Frank’s door.

The house is tiny but the front lawn looks well groomed. The mailbox says Linda Iero lives here.

Gerard stares at the button for the doorbell for a moment, as if he was unsure how to use it and turns back to look at Mikey.

Mikey is rolling his window down and waving at him to get this over with.

Gerard can’t hear the doorbell. Maybe it’s not working. Maybe he should knock instead.

Before he has time to think about what he should do, the door opens, just a crack, not enough to see the inside of the house. A woman peers at Gerard from the crack. “Yes?”

“M’am Iero?”

“Yes?”

“I’m one of…I’m Frank’s friend from school.”

Frank’s mom opens the door a little wider but not by much. “Gerard?” she asks, with a smile that doesn’t look anything but fake.

Gerard grins. She knows who he is. Frank told her about him.

“Frank’s not here. You needed something?”

Gerard ruffles his hair and shuffles his feet. Frank’s mom is staring at him like she wants him gone, like she’s about to slam the door right back in his face.

“I was just wondering where he was,” Gerard mutters, taking a quick glance behind Mrs Iero’s shoulder. There’s nothing there. No Frank. Just a dark corridor that seems endless.

“He’s with his dad for a few days,” Frank’s mom replies, her eyes falling on Gerard’s feet.

“Oh. I wanted to give him his homework and-“

“He’s not here,” she says, her tone a little harsh. “I’ll tell him you came,” she adds as she starts closing the door.

“When is he coming back?”

“Soon.” She gives Gerard another cold smile, one that looks just as fake as Gerard’s mom’s nails or the color of her hair. “Good night, Gerard,” she says before squeezing the door shut.

“Night,” Gerard says to the Iero’s front door.

As Gerard walks back to the car, he turns to look at the house. One of the curtains on the second floor moves and Gerard could swear Frank was there, looking like a ghost; a ghost of himself, a dark figure lurking in the shadows.

“I think she’s lying,” Gerard tells his brother as he pulls away from the curb.

“What did she say?” Mikey asks, eyebrow quirked and fingers typing on his phone.

“She says he’s not here. I think Frank’s mom is abusing him.”

“Do you have any evidence? That’s some heavy stuff there.”

Gerard pauses for a second. _Evidence._ “Look, Mikey. The bruises, the trouble he gets in. He misses school all the fuckin’ time. His mom has him locked up somewhere in his room. I’m sure about that.”

“I think you should ask Frank before calling the cops on his mom,” Mikey mumbles, his eyes narrowing behind his glasses.

“I’m going back tonight.”

As Gerard turns around the corner of the street, he takes a final glance in the rearview mirror. The house is nothing but a blue dot in the distance. He needs to come back. He needs to see for himself that Frank isn’t locked up in his room. Even if the rescue mission requires some climbing, maybe even breaking and entering, Gerard is willing to go all the way for Frank.

*

Gerard parks the car on Frank’s street, a couple of houses down from the Iero’s. He manages to melt into the shadows pretty well and jumps behind a bush when a car rolls by.

The house looks bigger in the dark. There’s a tree in the front lawn. Gerard could climb it and have a pretty good view from there. He pockets a handful of pebbles (he might need to throw them against Frank’s window. That is, if he finds Frank’s window), and starts the slow climb.

Gerard’s always hated climbing the rope in PE class. He’s not a great athlete but he’s also afraid of heights. He puts his feet in the crooks of the branches, sits in a fork, pushes a little higher until he’s maybe eight, maybe ten feet from the ground.

Gerard takes a deep breath. He tries not to look down. Looking down would be a very bad idea. Instead, Gerard looks straight ahead, straight at Frank’s house.

There’s a light glowing in a room downstairs. Gerard assumes it’s the TV. It’s the only light in the house. The window where Gerard saw Frank earlier is dark. Gerard grabs a pebble from his pocket and throws it at the window. He misses. The pebble bounces off the wall and hits a gutter.

Gerard holds his breath. Maybe he shouldn’t be throwing pebbles at Frank’s window in the middle of the night. He should be in bed with a book or a movie. He shouldn’t be up in a tree like a creepy stalker.

A dog howls somewhere close by.

Gerard takes another pebble and throws it at the window. Nothing happens. The pebble hits the window but nothing happens after that.

Maybe Frank’s mom wasn’t lying. Maybe the wind pushed the curtain. Maybe Gerard is insane. Maybe Frank’s house is haunted. Maybe Frank has some kind of evil twin they keep inside the house at all times, like in that Simpsons episode where Bart finds his deformed brother in the attic and—

The dog howls again.

A light comes on downstairs. Gerard hides behind a branch and watches as Frank’s mom walks into the kitchen. She peers out into her backyard for a few seconds, makes herself a cup of coffee and a sandwich, and goes back to the living room.

The night’s cold but Gerard can feel the sweat roll down his back. He needs to get the fuck out of this tree now.

Gerard looks down. The climb down seems even trickier than the climb up.

Gerard can’t see where he puts his feet. He slips, manages to catch himself on a branch, and flaps helplessly for a few seconds, his heart pounding madly in his chest. When he’s not too far from the ground, Gerard lets go of the trunk, splinters pushing through the tip of his fingers. He lands on his ass, his knees bent at odd angles.

He’s relieved to see he didn’t break anything on landing. He wipes off the dirt off his jeans and listens to the silence.

The dog howls once more. It sounds like the sound is coming from the backyard. Gerard didn’t know Frank had a dog.

Gerard starts walking back to his car, feeling lucky he wasn’t caught being a peeping Tom, when something makes him turn around. He can’t go now. He didn’t find Frank. His mission statement was clear. Find evidence that Frank’s mom is a liar.

After a moment of hesitation, Gerard heads back towards the house. He hunches as he passes the kitchen window. Frank’s mom could be coming back any second.

There’s no dog in the backyard. No kennel. Just a run-down wooden shed with only one tiny window.

Gerard turns back to the house. He could get inside through the basement window. Or maybe he could just—

The dog howls right behind Gerard.

Gerard jumps. He clenches at his chest like he’s about to die of a heart attack. It could happen. Eighteen year olds probably die of heart attacks all the time.

The howls are followed by a series of scratches. Gerard walks toward the noise, in spite of what his brain is telling him. The message is clear: “Run as fast as you can.”  
Even though Gerard is trespassing. Even though the dog could be rabid or turn out to be a two hundred pound attack dog with a taste for human blood.

Gerard isn’t afraid of dogs. Dogs usually like him. Well, some do.

The door is locked with a heavy bolt. Gerard tugs on it, tests it. In the shed, the dog stops howling.

“Hey there buddy,” Gerard whispers, hoping the dog won’t start barking at him.

The dog replies by sniffing loudly through the crack under the door and making a high pitched whine.

“Do you know where Frank is?” Gerard asks, and the dog answers with another whine.

Gerard walks up to the small window and cups his hands around his face to have a look inside the shed.

The dog isn’t a huge attack dog but a small mutt, a puppy. Maybe one of those huskies. It looks like it could have some wolf in it. Gerard can see its green eyes staring back at him from behind the glass.

The window isn’t locked. Gerard pushes it and the dog greets him by jumping up, its paws on the ledge. It whines and licks at Gerard’s hand.

“Good dog,” Gerard whispers, petting the puppy.

The tiny dog has a collar around its neck. The collar is tied to a corner of the shed by a sturdy chain. It doesn’t look dangerous at all, maybe a little mistreated, a little lonely.

Gerard isn’t here for the dog. He’s here because he’s looking for Frank. He shouldn’t even be petting the dog. He should just go back to the house and try and climb up to Frank’s window. Maybe if he had a ladder.

The dog pulls on its chain. It stares at Gerard, its eyes imploring, begging Gerard to untie him.

Maybe he’s going insane but there’s something about the dog that makes Gerard sad. He grabs the chain and unhooks it from the collar.

He pats the dog on the head and steps away from the window. He pulls it shut and starts retreating towards the street.

Tomorrow night, he’ll come prepared. Possibly with a ladder and something to cut through Frank’s window.

*

The dog follows Gerard.

When Gerard gets to his house, he realizes Frank’s dog is trailing a few feet behind him.

Gerard doesn’t know how that happened. The window looked like it was high enough and it didn’t look possible for the dog to jump out of it. But that’s the only explanation Gerard has since dogs can’t pick locks.

Gerard pets Frank’s dog for a few seconds, trying to come up with the best course of action. He decides to take it home, through the basement so his parents don’t start freaking out about their son bringing in strays.

Strangely, the dog seems to know the way to Gerard’s room. Probably something to do with scent. It trots down the dark flight of stairs that leads to the basement and scratches at Gerard’s closed bedroom door.

“Hold on,” Gerard whispers, pushing it open. He throws his jacket onto the bed, toes off his sneakers and watches as the dog explores the room.

Gerard has a very limited experience in dogs and how to care for them.

The dog doesn’t look hurt or hungry. It just looks like it wants some attention, some affection.

Gerard’s room is larger than the garden shed where the dog was locked, and Gerard figures he can let the dog sleep here tonight. Maybe he can take it back to Frank’s in the morning. If he goes there early, he can even pretend this never happened.

The dog jumps onto Gerard’s bed and stares at him, sat on its hind legs. It doesn’t have a tag so Gerard has no idea what its name could be.

“You look like a Hector. Or maybe something a little crazier like Lugosi. Or Frankenstein. Frank would give you a rad name like that, wouldn’t he?”

The dog lies down.

“Igor?” Gerard asks as he takes off his hoodie. “Or Pluto?”

The dog sneezes.

“How about Gargantua?”

Gerard takes off his jeans and puts on his pajama pants.

The dog lets out a tiny whine.

“Are you hungry, Pugsley? I have chicken wings.”

Gerard sits down next to the dog and pets it, his fingers running on the soft coat of fur. “You don’t look hungry.”

The door swing open and Mikey storms inside the room without a knock. “I’m borrowing your X-Men…” he says, his eyes falling on the dog.

It’s too late to hide it now but Gerard pulls a blanket on top of it anyway.

“What the fuck is that?” Mikey asks, pointing at Gerard’s new friend with one of his bony fingers.

“It’s a dog,” Gerard replies with a shrug. That seemed pretty obvious to him.

The dog stares at Mikey for a moment before pushing its nose under Gerard’s hand, asking to be petted again. Gerard quickly indulges.

“This thing’s not a fucking dog. It’s a wolf. I know a wolf when I see one.”

“Shut up, Mikes. It’s a dog. People don’t keep pet wolves. Not in fucking Belleville.”

“That’s a fucking wolf. You should let it out before it bites your hand clean off.”

“It won’t bite me.” The dog (wolf?) licks Gerard’s finger. “Aren’t you a good puppy?”

Mikey lets out a loud “pfft”. He takes a careful step towards Gerard’s desk and his stack of comics and grabs the latest issue of X-Men.

“You’re an idiot,” he says, shrugging and retreating towards the door. “If this thing mauls you during the night, I’m taking your comic book collection and your TV.”

The wolf cub looks up at Mikey and lets out a very low growl. This isn’t good.

“Whatever,” Gerard says, quickly petting the wolf. “I found it at Frank’s. I’ll bring it back tomorrow.”

Mikey turns so fast he almost walks into the doorframe. “You stole Frank’s wolf?”

Gerard shakes his head. “It followed me home. I didn’t _steal_ it.”

“I’m telling mom,” Mikey mumbles. He looks at the wolf and cocks his head. “This thing might be a werewolf. If it bit you, you’d turn into a werewolf too. I’d be okay with that.”

“If you tell mom about my pet werewolf, I’ll tell her about the party and the porn you’re hiding in your shoe box and that time you blew Pete Wentz in her car.”

“Asshole.”

“Doucherag.”

“Turd,” Mikey says as he shuts the door.

Gerard replies by calling him a dickbag but the insult never reaches him. Gerard hears Mikey’s door slam shut and then he hears the faint sound of Pulp and Jarvis Cocker bleed underneath his door.

It takes Gerard a while to settle for bed. He lets the pet wolf (yeah, maybe it’s not a dog after all) lie next to him while he does his homework and then spends an hour or two watching a terrible science fiction movie. He sketches a few werewolves and finally crawls under the duvet.

The wolf pushes its nose under Gerard’s arm and licks his face. Dogs or wolves or whatever this thing is usually don’t smell this good but this one smells like apple pie.

“It’s too bad I can’t keep you,” Gerard says with a giggle, pushing the animal’s wet nose away from his neck.

Gerard never had a dog. Not one just to himself. The one they had when they grew up was his mom’s and it was a poodle from hell. It didn’t smell like pastry and didn’t like to crawl into bed with Gerard like this.

The wolf rests its head on Gerard’s chest and closes its eyes.

Gerard pets it for a few more minutes before eventually drifting off to sleep, his dreams filled with strange creatures with yellow eyes licking him to death.

*

The next morning, Gerard wakes up at the crack of dawn.

There’s a warm body next to his. He remembers about the wolf two seconds before he starts freaking out and reaches behind his back to pet it.

That’s the reason why he’s up so early. The wolf needs to go back in Frank’s shed before Frank’s mom wakes up and discovers someone stole it.

“Hey buddy,” Gerard whispers, his throat raw. His hand touches something that isn’t fur. He’s touching skin.

The body next to his on the bed stirs and groans.

Gerard removes his hand, rolls around on his side and stares in disbelief.

The animal is gone. Frank is there in its place, curled up at the other end of the bed, naked and yet, so warm.

“Frank,” Gerard mouths. His voice doesn’t manage to get past his tongue.

Gerard sits up. He’s pretty sure he had a fucking pet wolf in his bed last night. He’s pretty sure he didn’t imagine this one. He wasn’t on any kind of drugs and it’s been a week since he even touched anything with alcohol in it, a personal record.

“Frank,” he tries again and this time, his voice is raspy.

Frank moans and rolls around, his back to Gerard.

There are scratch marks on his back and a few bruises. It’s like one of these cheesy Lifetime movies where someone discovers their best friend is the victim of abuses. Frank is covered in old bruises, yellow, red, purple and black.

“Frank,” Gerard says a little louder. His voice breaks. Gerard coughs.

Frank mumbles something that sounds like, “in a minute, mom” before pulling Gerard’s comforter on top of him.

It takes him roughly two seconds before he’s jumping out of bed, looking frantic and confused. He looks down at his dick, looks up at Gerard and his face decomposes, blanches.

“I…”

“Why are you naked?” Gerard asks because that’s all he can think about asking. Maybe this is some kind of hallucination. Maybe Gerard wants to see Frank naked so bad that his brain is playing tricks on him. He shuts his eyes, opens them again and Frank is still there, _yup_ still naked.

“I need to go,” Frank replies in a hushed tone. He steals a pair of Gerard’s jeans on top of his laundry basket, grabs the t-shirt Gerard was wearing yesterday at school. “My mom’s gonna fucking kill me, he says.

He flees without another word, no explanation, no nothing, not even a look back.

Gerard stays like this, lying on his side, staring at the door and trying to make sense of this until his alarm clock buzzes.

*

“Naked?” Ray asks with a grin.

“Naked.”

“And you didn’t try to take advantage of him?” Ray asks, planting his fork in the scrambled eggs he didn’t finish. He pushes his plate to the side and looks around the diner for the waitress. “I mean, it’s pretty obvious you like his dick.”

“I don’t like his dick, OK?” Gerard protests, maybe a little too vehemently, throwing a French fry at Ray. He shoves the next one in his mouth and pushes his plate towards Mikey.

Ray is about to throw the French fry back at him when Bob snatches it and throws it in his plate.

“Maybe he was trying to tell you he likes _your_ dick,” Bob says as he starts gathering their plates at the edge of the table.

Gerard thinks Bob has a thing for the waitress, a girl who’s around his age and who works at their diner every weekend.

“I don’t know. He looked freaked out when he woke up,” Gerard says, exchanging a look with Jamia, the cute waitress. “And his dog was gone.”

“Ask him,” Ray says with a shrug, “about the dog, about the nakedness. He’s a cool dude. He probably has some very good explanation to give you.”

Jamia walks by their table and Bob mumbles something Gerard doesn’t catch. She tops Gerard’s cup of coffee and asks, “Would you want some desert?”

Mikey just shakes his head. Ray and Bob tell her “No, thanks.”

“Check, please?” Gerard asks before Jamia disappears at the other end of the diner again.

Tonight’s not particularly busy but since Jamia is the only one working this shift, she’s been pretty busy as it is.

“I’ll be right over,” she says, grinning as she clears their table.

Bob reaches out and helps her stack up the plates. Their fingers touch briefly and Jamia laughs while Bob turns fire engine red.

“Loser,” Ray and Gerard say in unison when Jamia is gone.

Bob’s middle fingers shoots up at them. “Shut the fuck up. At least I don’t have the hots for a weirdo.”

“Frank’s not a weirdo.”

“The only explanation I have right now is that Frank is a werewolf. I mean, it makes perfect sense,” Mikey says, offering his usual twisted explanation.

“Frank’s not a fucking werewolf either.”

“Well, maybe he’s a shapeshifter then. Like in True Blood,” he says, waving his fingers. “That guy who can turn into a dog.”

“Sam,” Ray adds, so very helpfully.

“You do know how ridiculous you guys sound, right?”

Frank is fifteen years old. A hot as hell fifteen year old Gerard would like to make his boyfriend. There’s absolutely nothing weird about him. Well, there are the bruises which would point at Frank being abused by his lying sack of shit of a mother who also likes to lock their cute dog in a tiny garden shed. For all Gerard knows, maybe she locks Frank in his room or in a tiny closet.

“You’re an idiot,” Bob grumbles before adding, “You’re all idiots. You’ve watched too much TV. Werewolves don’t exist.”

“Only vampires do,” Gerard says.

Bob sighs.

They drop the subject pretty quickly, and by the time Jamia finally shows up with the check, they’ve moved on to something less awkward, their Mad Max LARPing and possible costumes and names for their gang of outlaws. Ray is in charge of the goggles, Mikey is taking care of the bandanas and Gerard is making them bracelets. Bob’s involvement seems to be to judge them silently and to not point out to them they are not eight-year-olds anymore.

Gerard is just as confused as he was this morning about the naked Frank incident as he started to call it in his head. The only thing that’s different is that now, he knows telling his friends was a stupid idea.

 _Fucking werewolves._

*

Gerard tries to call Frank a couple of times during the weekend but Frank never picks up. Gerard doesn’t leave any messages. Obviously, Frank doesn’t want to talk to him, and there’s so much “Hi, I’m worried about you. Call me back,” you can leave on someone’s voicemail.

By Monday morning, Gerard is convinced Frank is no longer his friend. Maybe he moved somewhere far away and switched schools. Or maybe he decided Gerard was an asshole for stealing his dog and never wanted to hear from him again.

When he gets to his locker, Gerard finds his jeans and t-shirt bunched up in the back behind his books with a note that says, “Thank you for the loan. You’re a life saver.”

The note doesn’t say if they’re still friends. It doesn’t offer any kind of explanation for why Frank was naked in Gerard’s bed on Friday.

Frank is waiting by Gerard’s car at lunch time. He’s leaning against the passenger door, grinning and rubbing his stomach.

“I’m fucking starving. Almost had to start without you,” he says, waving the bag with his lunch under Gerard’s nose. “I have cookies.”

“Sorry. Sister Anne kept us longer,” Gerard says and it’s not really the whole truth, just part of it. Sister Anne only kept the class for two extra minutes. Gerard spent ten looking for Frank in all their usual hideouts; the boiler room where they sometimes go to have a smoke, the bathroom in the South hallway where they sometimes meet in between classes, their locker, detention, the front gate.

“I bet she wouldn’t be such a fucking bitch if she got laid once in a while,” Frank says with a smirk.

Gerard snorts, climbs inside the car, and unlocks the passenger door.

Frank squeezes into the seat, turns on the stereo, fiddles with the stations until he finds some classic rock and shifts until his legs are spread across Gerard’s lap.

“Can I come over this weekend?” Frank asks after a few minutes before taking a big bite into his sandwich, some weird cereal bread stuffed with unidentifiable vegetables. “My mom is going to see my aunt upstate and I don’t feel like staying behind to water the plants,” he says through a mouthful of food.

“Of course.”

Frank wipes the ketchup dribbling on his chin and mumbles, “Thanks, man. You’re like, the best.”

Frank is acting like nothing happened at all. He’s acting like everything is normal. He’s not looking at Gerard though. He hasn’t looked into his eyes since that morning and Gerard should probably clear the air now, make sure this thing is not important.

Gerard swallows the last bit of his peanut butter sandwich and clears his throat. He puts a hand around Frank’s ankle and squeezes lightly. “Do we need to talk about something?”

Frank grimaces. He pulls his legs away from Gerard’s lap and slides back into his seat. “Nope. Everything’s peachy. Do _you_ need to talk about something?”

“No.”

Frank shrugs. Then he shoves the rest of his sandwich in his mouth and wipes his hands on the upholstery. He fishes for his pack of smokes in his jacket pocket, sticks one behind Gerard’s ear and takes one between his lips.

He pats Gerard’s pockets and raises an eyebrow. “Where’s your lighter?”

Gerard leans towards the glove box and pops it open. Frank goes perfectly still next to him, and Gerard can feel Frank’s breath brushing against his neck.

Great. Gerard’s stomach does the stupid swoopy thing it always does when he’s that close to Frank. Nothing’s different. Nothing’s more awkward than usual.

It’s probably for the best.

*

On Friday afternoon, Frank shows up on the Ways’ doorstep with a tiny backpack containing a king size bag of weed, cigarettes, a couple of cans of beer he stole from someone’s fridge (Frank was a little vague about where he got them), a change of underwear and a toothbrush.

He drops everything in Gerard’s room and makes himself at home right away. He kicks off his shoes across the room and digs through Gerard’s DVD collection.

Gerard orders them a couple of pizzas and locks his door in case his mom or Mikey decide to pay them a surprise visit while they’re about to make out.

It takes them less than a couple of hours to empty Gerard’s liquor cache in its entirety. Gerard’s last pack of cigarette is long smoked by the time they crawl out of Gerard’s room. They also make a considerable dent in Frank’s weed stash but Frank is pretty generous in that department.

Then they spend a couple of hours staring at the ceiling of stars out on the lawn, trying to figure out their names and why some of them are blinking sometimes red and other times blue (it takes them ten minutes to come to the conclusion that the blinking light is a plane), before retreating to Gerard’s car because it’s fucking April, and too fucking cold to be camping out.

As soon as Gerard locates his keys in the pocket of his jeans, they cram into the backseat, legs tangled up haphazardly. They shiver and laugh.

Frank bumps his head against the ceiling and Gerard’s feet get caught in one of the seat belts. It’s far from comfortable but it beats being outside.

“You know what I’d like right now?” Frank asks, grabbing the collar of Gerard’s hoodie and pulling him close.

Gerard shakes his head. He likes where this is going.

Frank’s breath is hot and smells like rum and coke. His eyelids droop before closing.

Gerard is starting to think he fell asleep on him when Frank licks his lips and says, “I need Twinkies. All of the Twinkies. I don’t even care if I spend the next decade puking. I want all of them.”

Now that Frank mentioned it, Gerard is hungry too. He could kill for a bag of flaming hot Cheetos and a Slurpie. Or anything they can get their hands on. “I’m fucking starving but I can’t drive. I don’t want to total my car,” he slurs, his mouth suddenly dry like he fucking ate sand. His tongue feels too big for his mouth.

“Mikey can drive. Mikey could be our sober driver.”

 _Fuck._ Why is it that Frank always brings up Mikey? Why is it that Frank always wants Mikey to come with them; to the movies, to their late Friday nights, early Saturday mornings munchie runs?

“Fine,” Gerard concedes. He staggers out of the car, walks up the driveway, and pounds on the living room window because he knows Mikey is there, watching a B-movie about a dead astronaut’s hand coming back to life to strangle idiots who deserve it.

Gerard knocks again and Mikey’s angular, pimpled face appears in the window frame a few seconds later. He pushes his glasses back on his nose and gives Gerard a pointed look.

“We’re going to the seven eleven,” Gerard shouts because, obviously, Mikey can’t hear him through the window. “We need snacks.”

Mikey doesn’t shout back. He whispers, “And by _we_ , you mean _I_ have to drive you there. Is that it?”

Gerard gives his brother his most potent pleading look. “Please?”

Mikey’s sigh fogs up the window. “Let me grab my coat,” he says before disappearing.

After a few seconds, Gerard realizes he’s freezing. He stumbles back down the driveway and peers into the backseat.

Frank is lying on the floor between the seats, his head tilted back, his neck exposed and hands reaching for something invisible above.

“What’s up?” Gerard asks and Frank’s fingers close around nothing but air.

“I just caught a rabbit,” he replies as he slowly climbs back onto the seat.

“Cool.”

When Mikey finally shows up, Gerard hands him his car keys a little reluctantly. Mikey just got his license, like, a month ago.

Mikey frowns as he slides behind the wheel and tells them to, “Fasten your seat belts, you motherfuckers.”

*

“We’re there,” Mikey announces a minute later.

 _What?_ Either time moves faster than it’s supposed to or the Seven Eleven moved closer to their house during the night.

“Can you get us some Twinkies?” Frank asks, visibly too high to remember how to open a door as he fiddles with the handle. “All of the Twinkies you can get.”

“What do you want, Gee?”

“Twinkies. Get us Twinkies.”

“Ok. Do you have any money?” Mikey asks, putting his hand out expectantly.

Gerard laughs. “Nope. I have nada. Frank?”

Frank struggles with his seat belt and grumbles under his breath.

“Fucking fine,” Mikey says. The door slams shut and then he’s gone.

Frank giggles, unbuckles his seat belt, and shifts across the backseat. He sits cross-legged next to Gerard and starts poking at Gerard’s face, his finger bouncing off Gerard’s flushed cheeks. He giggles a little louder before climbing into Gerard’s lap. He straddles him, locks his knees around Gerard’s thighs and starts moving.

His hot breath brushes against Gerard’s face. It smells like something fruity. It smells like pot and Tequila too, and that pizza they had a couple of hours ago.

Gerard isn’t really sure how it happens. He’s too high to think about the logistics of things. He’s sitting in the backseat of his car, his best friend in his lap, moving slowly, rubbing himself up and down against Gerard, and then Frank’s mouth ( _Oh God, his mouth_ ) is touching Gerard’s.

The kiss is sloppy and lazy. Frank’s lips are wet and hot. Actually, it’s not a real kiss in the technical sense. It’s more like Frank is rubbing his mouth all over Gerard’s, his tongue darting out of his mouth occasionally to make things a little more slippery.

Gerard wants to do something. He wants to show that he’s not just here as a spectator and that he wants this just as much as Frank but his lips refuse to move. His arms are limp at his sides. His brain shuts off for a second and everything goes black.

For a little while, it’s just Frank and nothing else, like the entire world has vanished around them.

Frank moans in Gerard’s mouth. He picks up the pace, his breath shaky, his hands all over Gerard, underneath his hoodie, on his face, around his neck.

Gerard can feel how hard Frank is in his tight jeans. He can feel how hard he is about to be too. He opens his eyes and reaches up, wraps his arms around Frank’s waist and pulls him closer even though he should probably push him away and stop this while he still can.

It’s maybe a minute later or maybe more when Frank breaks the kiss. He sticks a hand between them, rubbing his cock and Gerard’s through their clothes, palming them blindly and without any sort of rhythm.

Gerard lets out a hiccup and Frank mumbles against Gerard’s neck, words Gerard cannot make out.

They’re dry humping in Gerard’s car in the middle of an empty Seven Eleven parking lot at God knows what time it is and it looks like this is it. This is the moment Gerard was waiting for. Even though he’s less sober and in control than he had wished.

How is this even possible? How is this happening to him?

The answer never comes.

The door opens and Mikey slides back into the driver’s seat.

Gerard pushes Frank away, maybe a little too harshly, hoping Mikey didn’t see any of this. He shoves Frank back into his side of the seat and wipes the spit off his mouth with the back of his hand. _Frank’s spit._

Mikey throws a plastic bag full of Twinkies in the back and mumbles, “You owe me ten bucks. I’m keeping your Astonishing X-Men as collateral until I get my money.”

Frank dives in immediately, as if everything that had just happened had happened in a dream or not at all, and the bag of Twinkies was the only thing that really mattered.

Gerard cringes and presses a hand over his bulge. His dick twitches. He crosses his legs and cracks the window open. Maybe the cold air will do him good.

Frank throws the bag of Twinkies at him and climbs into the passenger seat, leaving Gerard alone with his erection and about five bucks worth of snacks.

*

When they get to Gerard’s room, Frank staggers inside and crashes onto the bed. He lets out a tiny giggle and starts rubbing at his stomach, lifting up his t-shirt. His belly is round from all the Twinkies. “We’re about to have a Twinkie baby,” he whispers, tracing small circles around his navel.

Gerard takes off his shoes and takes Frank’s off as well.

“Your ceiling is spinning like a record,” Frank mumbles, raising a shaky hand above his head.

“That’s because you’re drunk,” Gerard says as he drops next to him on the bed. He feels like a fucking hypocrite because he’s still pretty drunk too. The ceiling does look like it’s spinning. The bedspread too, and Frank, and everything else in the universe.

It would probably be the worst time to get sick. A mood killer, the opposite of what they just did in the car. Gerard rolls onto his side and stares at Frank’s face trying to make the world stable again.

Frank’s lips are pursed; a lock of his hair is falling over his cheek.

Gerard really likes Frank’s hair, how long it got in the span of a month. It makes him want to just grab it and tug on it.

Frank turns to look at Gerard after a minute and stares back at him, intent, his arms falling at his sides.

Gerard should say something about the make out session in the car. He should say something about how he wanted to pick it up where they left it off, somewhere along the lines of Frank’s palm rubbing against his zipper and Frank’s lips in his neck. But instead, he reaches out and pushes that lock of hair from Frank’s eyes and asks, “What kind of music would it play?”

Frank turns back to the ceiling and frowns. “Probably classic rock. Something by the Rolling Stones or the Stooges.”

“Wild Horses?” Gerard asks. “I Wanna Be Your Dog? Or fucking Paint it Black.”

When Gerard looks back at him, Frank’s eyes are closed.

“Frank?”

“Hmm?”

“I think we should sleep.”

“I can’t. It’s too early.”

Frank opens his eyes, rolls onto his stomach and burps loudly. “’Scuse me.”

“It’s 4am, Frank,” Gerard whispers. He’s actually not sure what time it is. He can’t see his alarm clock from here but he can’t be that far away from the truth since it was already 3.30am when they got back to the room.

“Sing to me.”

“I’m not singing to you.”

“I heard you sing before. I love your voice.”

“Fuck you.” Where the fuck did Frank hear him sing? Gerard never sings in public anymore, not since the public humiliation from two years ago that got him his nickname of Wendy Darling at his old school.

“I love your lips too. You have this thing. When you speak, your mouth is crooked. I think that’s hot.”

Frank’s fingers run along his lips, down his chin and his neck. Then they stop on the collar of his shirt. He moans, shifts and sits up before pulling his t-shirt off and throwing it off the bed. Then he crawls underneath the duvet and rolls onto his side to face Gerard.

Gerard shifts closer to him, closer until their legs are touching, Frank’s hand brushing up against Gerard’s chest.

That’s when Gerard kisses Frank. He decides that, _why the hell not_? He’s not exactly sober but this might be his only chance at a proper kiss.

It’s different from the one they shared in the car. Maybe it’s because the weed and the mass amounts of alcohol are starting to wear off. Or maybe it’s because Gerard is in control now.

He slides an arm around Frank’s back, his cool fingers on Frank’s hot skin and kisses Frank’s lips, just a peck to start and then a much deeper kiss, Frank bottom lip caught between Gerard’s.

It doesn’t last forever, only a minute and then it’s over. Gerard pulls away and Frank lets out a tiny whine.

“I’ve never done this before,” Frank says, his eyes still closed and his lips red and shiny and a little swollen. “I mean, make out with a dude. In a real bed. Or make out with anyone at all, to be honest.”

“Yeah?”

Frank rests his head on Gerard’s arm and plants a kiss on Gerard’s chest. “You know, I’m not a weirdo. I know some people are calling me a weirdo but I’m not.”

“I know. Weirdo is such a fucking ugly word. It doesn’t even mean anything. It’s like—”

Frank squeezes Gerard’s wrist and interrupts him. “Did I tell you why my father is no longer in the picture?” he asks, his knee bumping against Gerard’s thigh.

Gerard shakes his head.

“Because he’s a monster. And I’m a monster too, now. I’m turning into him,” Frank says as he nuzzles at Gerard’s neck. He shifts closer to Gerard, wraps a leg around Gerard’s waist and growls.

He actually growls and it’s the strangest thing Gerard has ever heard because it doesn’t sound human. Between this thing about Frank being a monster and his friends trying to convince Gerard that his best friend is a werewolf, Gerard is starting to believe it; that there is something wrong with Frank and that maybe he should run while he still can, before Frank devours him whole. Then again, Gerard isn’t completely freaked out by this idea. It shouldn’t turn him on like this.

“My mom,” Frank adds in a husky voice. “My mom kicked him out. All they did in the end was just fight over me, over how they should raise me. I think my mom hates me because I’m turning her life into shit. Just like he did.”

“You’re not a monster, Frank. You’re…” Gerard isn’t sure what to say. Frank is the most amazing person Gerard’s ever met into his entire life. But it might not be the best time to tell him that. Frank might not believe him.

“I think I’m good to sleep now,” Frank says with a small smile. “Thanks for the talk.”

He plants a tiny kiss in the crook of Gerard’s neck and Gerard feels the familiar swoop in his stomach.

“Anytime.” Gerard presses his lips to the crown of Frank head and takes a deep breath, his nostrils filling with the sweet smell of Frank’s hair. “Night, Frank.”

“Night, Gee.”

Frank closes his eyes and a minute later, he’s breathing down Gerard’s neck, snoring very softly, his fingers clenching on Gerard’s hoodie.

Gerard smiles. He doesn’t know where to go from here but at least, their first kiss is out of the way now.

*

The next morning, Gerard wakes up with a hangover which, all things considered, was to be expected.

He opens his eyes and everything seems too bright. Everything is too loud, the birds outside his window and the traffic in the street. The rustling of the sheets against his skin sounds like sandpaper on a dry wall. His heart is pounding so loud in his ears it hurts.

He cringes and tries to move, tries to bury himself farther under the duvet and pretend it’s not morning but his feet are caught in the sheets and there’s something clinging to his chest. Someone.

“Fucking kill me already,” Frank’s voice grunts beside him.

Gerard blinks and Frank is still here, his cheek pressed against Gerard’s elbow, his hair a tangled mess, his eyelids glued together. He should look gross but Gerard finds him even more attractive.

 _Fucking fuck._ Gerard really needs to stop staring at Frank like this, like it’s the first time he sees him.

“We don’t have to get up just yet,” Gerard says and Frank looks up at him with heavy lidded eyes.

“Did that really happen?” he asks as he untangles himself off Gerard, pulling away slowly and carefully.

Gerard assumes Frank is talking about the kissing and the cuddling until Frank asks, “Did I really eat twenty two Twinkies in a row without puking?”

“Yeah. You couldn’t be stopped.”

“You _should_ have stopped me, man.”

Frank rolls out of bed and makes a run for the bathroom. Gerard notices how Frank is down to his underwear now. He doesn’t remember Frank taking off his pants but that might have happened while he was asleep.

Frank disappears for a while and comes back wearing nothing but a clean pair of underwear. He smells amazing and Gerard has to refrain from sniffing at his hair like a pervert.

Once Gerard has located Frank’s pants and his t-shirt, he shuffles to the bathroom.

Everything smells like stale tobacco and pot. His hair, his hoodie, his fingers. He should probably take a shower but that would require too much effort on his part so Gerard goes for the alternative, a splash of water on his face and a change of clothes.

“I think I might have to borrow a shirt from you,” Frank says, throwing the one he was wearing yesterday on the floor with a grimace. “That shit smells terrible.”

Gerard finds a t-shirt that isn’t too big for Frank, the Dawn of the Dead one Mikey keeps stealing from his closet.

They drag their feet down the hall, past Mikey’s room, and upstairs into the kitchen half an hour later to get breakfast, looking a little like a couple of zombies which is pretty ironic given what Frank is wearing.

It’s 3pm by the time they sit around the empty kitchen table. Breakfast is more like late lunch, early dinner but it’s not like it makes a difference.

It looks like they have the house to themselves. There’s a note on the fridge from his parents letting him know they’re at the mall and that Mikey is with them. Mikey probably sees this as some kind of punition; being forced to hang out with his parents on a Saturday afternoon while he could be getting shitfaced with his friends.

There’s cold coffee and Gerard makes them a couple of grilled cheese sandwiches and a plate of scrambled eggs (they just have to eat around the shells Gerard managed to drop in it).

Gerard doesn’t burn anything. The eggs and the grilled cheese taste actually okay.

They eat in silence because Gerard isn’t sure what he’s supposed to say now. Everything he could say will probably sound awkward after last night.

Frank doesn’t touch his eggs. “My stomach is still fucked up from the Twinkies,” he says as he pushes his plate towards Gerard.

“You wanna do something?” Gerard asks. He empties Frank’s plate in his and shoves the rest of the scrambled eggs in his mouth before adding, “I guess we could go to Ray’s. Ray has a fuck load of video games. He has a big ass TV and a big ass couch.” Ray has also the miracle cure for hangovers: gallons of Mountain Dew in his fridge.

Frank shrugs. “Could we stay in? I’m still recovering from my Twinkie binge.” He rubs at his belly and pulls his t-shirt up, exposing his stomach and the trail of dark hairs leading into his boxer shorts.

Gerard ducks his head as he clears the table. “You need pants?” he asks, pilling up the dishes into the sink.

Frank smirks. “I guess not. You’ve already seen me in my undies so…”

Gerard coughs. “Yeah.” _Yeah_. Seeing Frank in his underwear shouldn’t be such a big fucking deal but apparently, his dick didn’t get the memo.

*

As soon as they’re back inside Gerard’s room, Frank goes back to bed and pulls the duvet over him. He drags Gerard down with him, his fingers clinging to the hem of Gerard’s shirt.

Gerard lies down and fits his body to Frank’s, his knees interlocked with Frank’s and his chest pressed against Frank’s back. He digs the remote out from under his pillow and switches the TV on.

There’s some black and white movie on PBS and Gerard is too tired to look for something better. They end up watching it without really paying attention.

Gerard doesn’t really give two shits about TV. All he needs right now is Frank’s warmth against his skin and the smell of his hair, sweet like warm vanilla sugar. He plants a kiss on Frank’s temple and slides a hand underneath Frank’s shirt, stroking Frank’s soft belly.

Frank turns around and moans.

Gerard quickly lets go of him and rolls onto his back.

Frank wraps his arms around Gerard’s chest and uses him as his own personal human pillow, a pillow that probably smells rancid because Gerard hasn’t showered for days.

He falls asleep a few minutes later anyway and doesn’t wake up until late on Sunday morning.

Gerard watches him sleep for a little while before following him into slumber.

*

Gerard’s morning breath is pretty spectacular when he wakes up the next day but Frank doesn’t seem to mind.

He kisses Gerard open-mouthed, slow and lazy for so long that Gerard loses track of…everything. It takes him a couple of minutes to remember that it’s Sunday and that he’s in his room.

They eventually have to get out of bed because Frank’s stomach is growling.

When they go upstairs, Mom is making them breakfast. Well, _making_ isn’t the right word. She’s pouring cereal and milk into a couple of bowls.

“Did you sleep well?” she asks before setting the bowls in front of them. She plants a kiss on the crown of Gerard’s head and ruffles his bedhead.

Gerard wishes she didn’t do that kind of things when they have guests.

“I slept great,” Frank replies with a huge grin before slapping his hand on Gerard’s thigh. “Great.”

 _Great._

*

When his mom comes to pick him up, Frank gives Gerard a tight hug and a quick kiss that lands on the corner of Gerard’s lips.

Gerard wouldn’t have minded a real kiss with tongue but beggars can’t be choosers and besides, Frank’s mom and probably half of Gerard’s neighbors are watching them.

“See you tomorrow,” Frank says before trudging down the pathway to his mom’s car.

This is the most awesome weekend Gerard has ever had. He can’t tell anyone. They would give him endless shit about it. Gerard knows his friends too well.

*

Gerard gets to school on Monday and spends the entire morning wondering how he should act around Frank; if he should keep this thing a secret, pretend it didn’t happen because it was just a momentary thing, a lapse in judgment, or if he should kiss Frank on the mouth next time he sees him. _Fuck what everyone in this stupid school thinks._

By lunch time, he’s so nervous that he can’t eat anything. He stares at his lunch for a minute, and when he looks up, Frank is sliding next to him into the passenger seat.

“Hey there,” he says, leaning over to plant a kiss on Gerard’s cheek. “I got fucking detention.”

“What happened?”

Frank doesn’t seem really heart-broken about it. “I told Mr Fremont to go fuck himself,” he says with a tiny giggle. “Fucker had it coming.”

Gerard rolls his eyes. “Really?”

“I know. I know. But he was just too fucking annoying,” Frank says, his cheeks flushed. He takes his lunch out of his paper bag and inspects it as if it could be poisoned.

“You need me to wait for you after school?” Gerard asks, taking a whiff at his own lunch and deciding to go without any solid food for the day. “I could take you home,” he offers, dumping his lunch into the backseat. Maybe he could swing by Dunkin Donuts on his way home to grab something more appetizing.

“Nah. I’ll walk,” Frank says, imitating him. “I think those Twinkies fucked up my stomach. Remind me I’m being an idiot next time I try to pull something like that.”

“I have a car, Frank. It’s what it’s here for. I can wait for you. I don’t want you to walk home on your own. It’s fucking stupid.”

“No. Your car is here for other useful reasons. Like this for example,” Frank says and then his hands are on Gerard’s face, cupping his cheeks and pulling him in for a kiss.

It’s a little weird, to be kissing Frank in the car when it’s broad daylight and in the parking lot of Queen of Peace where anyone can see them, other students or faculty, maybe even nuns.

Gerard licks the inside of Frank’s mouth and it tastes sweet. He lets his hands trail up and down Frank’s side and clings to him. He doesn’t want Frank to stop kissing him. He doesn’t want Frank to go away now.

This is too amazing to last but Gerard wants to hold on to it as long as he can.

*

That’s how it starts.

The daily making out sessions in the back of Gerard’s car are harmless fun, something to look forward to.

They never go beyond kissing and the occasional groping because it would be stupid and reckless. Besides, Gerard never had sex and doing it in the backseat of his car would be too much of a fucking cliché.

Lunch hour feels shorter and shorter as the week goes by, until Thursday afternoon, the day Gerard and Frank both forget to show up to class.

Gerard is too much into this to stop and look at his watch, and Frank is too busy moaning in Gerard’s ear while Gerard is stroking him through his slacks to realize they are already thirty four minutes late to class.

Skipping could be an option at this point but Frank seems a little freaked out at the idea of his mom finding out he missed school.

“She’s gonna ask me where I was and I can’t tell her I was with you. I can’t fucking tell her I was about to come my brains out in your backseat or she’ll never let me hang out with you again,” he says, stumbling out of the car, and tucking his shirt back in his pants.

Gerard fixes his hair in the rearview mirror because it looks like something exploded in it and then follows Frank outside. He pushes a lock of hair off Frank’s flushed face and strokes his cheeks. “She doesn’t have to know. You could tell her you fell asleep or, I don’t know, that you weren’t feeling too hot.”

“We need to be more careful,” Frank says before pulling away to grab his books from the passenger seat. “Did you know they suspended a guy because he was kissing his girlfriend on the mouth in the cafeteria? They are insane here. We can’t do this shit anymore.”

Gerard did not know this. Maybe Frank is right. Making out in the car is not an option anymore. They need to find something else because Gerard doesn’t want to stop making out with Frank ever.

*

Gerard shows up late for Sister Anne’s class. Of course she gives him one of her reproachful glares, the ones that probably turned other students into stone before.

He slides into his chair, opens his notebook and ducks his head. Maybe he won’t be in trouble if he keeps a low profile.

“I’d like you to stay after class, Mr Way,” Sister Anne says and Gerard’s shoulders drop.

He knew this was going to happen. You can’t be late for Sister Anne’s class twice in a week and not get in trouble. The punishment is probably something horrible, some form of torture involving the bible, like knowing an entire psalm by heart and getting spanked with a ruler if he messes up a word.

Maybe Frank got spanked before. _Shit_ This is not the kind of things he needs to think about right now.

At the end of the period, Gerard walks up to Sister Anne’s desk and waits for his punishment, his palms sweaty and something stirring in his stomach.

“You know I could get you suspended for your…” Sister Anne purses her lips, as if whatever she had to say was too disgusting for words. “Your extracurricular activities.”

“I don’t have—” Gerard starts but Sister Anne bangs her ruler on the desk.

“If I had any proof…” She pauses and stares out the window, her ruler beating against her desk rhythmically. “There is nothing more enjoyable to me than the idea of getting you suspended or expelled. You are a disgrace to this school, a shameless sinner, a parasite.”

Gerard never thought he was so many things. Obviously, Sister Anne has more compliments in store but Gerard doesn’t need to hear them. “I won’t be late again,” he says before she can start using a more colorful language.

Sister Anne gets up and leans against her desk, her ugly, wrinkly and discolored hands pressed on the table. “No you won’t be. Or I’ll get you and Mr Iero _expelled_. Do you understand?”

Gerard nods but it doesn’t seem enough for Sister Anne. Gerard can feel her staring at him, her eyes piercing holes in Gerard’s skull.

“Yes. I understand,” he finally manages.

Up until now, Gerard is mainly worried about Sister Anne knowing about the make out sessions. But then, she mumbles, “I’m sure your parents will love to know about this.”

Maybe Donna wouldn’t mind but Frank’s mom… Frank’s mom would probably lock him up in the garden shed if she knew. She can never know.

Gerard is afraid to look up from his clasped hands. He waits for Sister Anne to say anything but she doesn’t.

A minute passes and Sister Anne starts gathering her things on the desk.

Gerard takes the hint and walks out of the room before she can change her mind and decides to threaten him some more.

*

Gerard tells Frank about the meeting with Sister Anne and, as expected, Frank freaks the fuck out.

The following week, they have abandoned the backseat of Gerard’s car and spend lunch time with Mikey, sitting as far away from each other as possible so they don’t fall back into old habits like holdings hands under the table or touching in inappropriate ways.

Gerard wants to die by the end of the first week. He is supposed to be preparing for the SATs and the final exams coming up that month but he cannot even focus on his revisions. By the end of the second week, he can’t take it anymore.

He spends every minute of every day, thinking about Frank, and when they’re together, Gerard can’t even touch him.

 _Seriously. Fuck his life and fuck this stupid school and all the assholes who go there._

*

Frank is the one to suggest that they make a trip to the movies twice a week since making out in Gerard’s room every Friday night (and Saturday, and every other Sunday too when Frank doesn’t have to go to church or to some kind of family function) is not nearly enough.

“I used to work at the Lincoln and I know the best spot to make out without being spotted,” he says with a wolfish grin as they stand by their locker, so fucking close to each other, Gerard might burn from the inside out with want.

He could just go for it, push Frank against the lockers and kiss him, run his hands through Frank’s hair and grind against him but there are too many witnesses.

The Lincoln on Kearny Avenue is the closest one from the school so it’s the obvious choice for their first official, but still secret, date.

Gerard picks a movie he would actually like to see (even though he’s aware that he might miss most of it) and leaves a note in their locker to let Frank know about the show times.

He’s waiting for Frank in the parking lot at the end of the day when he sees him walking his way, his book bag hanging from his slouched shoulders. Mikey is with him.

Frank gives him an apologetic look that probably means, _I couldn’t tell him to go away_ , before ducking inside the car. “Fucking shotgun,” he says and Mikey grumbles.

“You’re going to see Scott Pilgrim?” Mikey asks, throwing his bag in the backseat.

Gerard looks at Frank and then at his feet. What the fuck is he supposed to say? “Huh. Yeah?”

Mikey gives him a small crooked smile before climbing into the backseat where he announces, “I’m coming with.”

He takes his phone out of his pocket and starts typing a message. “I’m telling Bob and Ray so they can meet us there.”

Gerard tries very hard to hide his disappointment. He knew he should have said something else. Something like, _no, Mikey, we’re going to see The Revenge of Kitty Galore_ but given Gerard’s shitty track record with luck, Mikey would have probably decided to come anyway.

The ride to the theater is quiet and Gerard can feel Frank’s eyes on him and his knee brushing up against his leg a couple of times before they reach their destination.

When they get to the Lincoln, Ray and Bob are waiting for them in the lobby, arms loaded with pop corn and Cokes, arguing about ninjas and robots or maybe about ninja robots.

They high five like a bunch of losers before proceeding to the box office to buy their tickets.

“I heard it’s not as good as the comics but it’s Edgar Wright. This man can do no harm,” Mikey says as they search for the best seats available. The movie’s already in its third or fourth week so there are a lot of empty seats to choose from.

Mikey sits down in the middle of a row, at the dead center and Ray and Bob pick the seats next to his. Gerard is about to follow them when Frank grabs his arm and pulls him into a row in the back, in a corner.

“I’m calling dibs on this seat,” he says before squeezing Gerard’s fingers and sitting down.

Mikey looks over his shoulder and quirks an eyebrow. “You’re not sitting with us?”

“No. I like it here better. We’re right next to the speakers.”

Mikey shrugs. “Whatever,” he says just as the lights dim.

The previews are for a bunch of stupid ass movies Gerard would rather not pay to see, something with Brendan Fraser and another one of those 3D-just-for-the-sheer-fun-of-it movies.

As soon as the opening credits roll, Frank shifts closer to Gerard and starts fiddling with his tie and the buttons of his shirt. He leans in for a quick peck on Gerard’s lips and shoves a hand underneath Gerard’s waistband.

Right to the point.

Maybe this is the best seat in the house to do this kind of things but Mikey and Ray and even fucking Bob Bryar are sitting a few rows in front of them. They can always save the handjobs for later, when they’re home and alone and possibly naked in Gerard’s bed.

“We—” Gerard whispers. He just needs Frank to slow down. Maybe they could start by holding hands in the dark.

“Shhhh”

Gerard frowns. It’s not his fault his best friend is trying to undress him at a late afternoon showing of Scott Pilgrim Vs the World. “I didn’t say anything,” he tells Frank.

“Shut up and let me see your cock.”

Mikey suddenly turns around, forcing Gerard to let go of Frank’s hand. “You’re being noisy. Both of you. Stop it.”

Frank heaves a sigh and whispers in Gerard’s ear, “Your brother is a fucknut.”

“You’re the fucknut, fucknut,” Mikey says, a little louder than it is acceptable in a movie theatre and a couple of people in the front rows turn to them and glare menacingly.

Gerard slides down into his seat until he’s pretty sure no one can see him. He can’t even see the screen anymore, just the top of Ray’s head.

Frank giggles and buries his face in Gerard’s neck. He stays like this for a minute before planting a kiss on Gerard’s jaw. His skilled hands are already moving up under Gerard’s shirt, warm and soft.

“We need to do this every week,” he mumbles, low and husky before pulling his tie off his neck and shoving it in the pocket of his jacket.

Gerard doesn’t see much of the movie beyond this point. Frank almost climbs into his lap and start kissing him, slow and a little noisy. It’s like he’s trying to make up for all of the kissing they missed for the past couple of weeks, but it’s even better because they have more time and a little more privacy than in the school parking lot.

Gerard forces himself to laugh at the appropriate times and focuses on the screen as much as his brain can manage while Frank is nestled against him, his fingers stroking Gerard’s thigh absent-mindedly.

Then, an hour or so into the movie, Frank murmurs something in Gerard’s ear, gets up and pulls Gerard out of his seat.

He drags him out into the hallway and to the bathroom. They don’t run into anyone on their way there.

They’re out of breath by the time they pick a stall from the running and from the rush of adrenalin.

Frank locks the door and struggles with Gerard’s belt. He pulls them down in one swift move and presses himself against Gerard, kissing him so hard their teeth collide.

“I can’t fucking take it,” he mumbles before moaning into Gerard’s mouth, his tongue licking Gerard’s and his hands slipping inside Gerard’s boxer briefs. “I need your fucking cock.”

Gerard never had a hand that wasn’t his on his dick before. Not really. There was always fabric to shield his dick from Frank’s hand so far, so this is pretty new.

Frank seems to know what he’s doing. He tugs on Gerard’s underwear, wraps his hand around Gerard’s cock and strokes firmly.

Someone wrote something on the wall with a black sharpie, a quote from a movie. Gerard can’t remember the title. He bangs his head against the door of the stall and stares at the graffiti while his stomach clenches.

Frank groans and rams Gerard into the door, pushing against him so hard that Gerard can feel Frank’s hardening dick press against his thigh.

“Look at me,” he says before covering Gerard’s mouth with his, his hand sliding around Gerard’s dick a little faster.

Gerard tries really hard to focus on the graffiti again. It says something about being threatened by a walking meat loaf. Definitely sounds familiar. But with his brain about to melt out of his ears, thinking is getting more difficult. What Frank is doing with his tongue combined with what he is doing with his hand is too much. Too good. Too fast. Gerard can’t even breathe anymore.

“Look at me,” Frank repeats before letting out a low growl. “Jesus, fuck. I fucking love this.”

Gerard’s eyes slide from the graffiti. He fucking loves this too. So much. He stares into Frank’s eyes, and, _fuck_ , Frank is staring right back at him, a strange, yellow glow in his blown pupils.

Frank’s eyes never looked like that before. Although to be fair, his hand never did what it’s doing before either. Frank growls once more and then gives Gerard’s dick a vicious pull that makes Gerard moan, so fucking desperate, so fucking ridiculous. Oh God. He can’t. He’s going to throw up or die or—

He has to clench his fists, his fingernails digging deep into his sweaty palms so he doesn’t come on the spot. His knees are wobbly. His toes curl in his shoes. His stomach tenses. This is it. He can feel his orgasm build up in his bones.

Gerard would have loved to last for hours, or maybe, more realistically, until the end of the movie, but he’s so into Frank, his fingers and his sweaty palm; so into his first hand job ever that he only lasts a couple of minutes. Not that he timed himself or anything. Frank’s watch just happens to be in his line of vision.

When Gerard comes, Frank kisses him, muffling the embarrassing sounds he’s making; the sounds they’re both making.

Gerard shudders and his eyes roll back into his skull. He blacks out for a second and spills into the palm of Frank’s hand. Some spunk lands on his shirt too and on Frank’s. That’s gonna be bitch to clean up.

After a couple of minutes, Gerard manages to collect himself. He tucks his dick back in his slacks and dabs a piece of toilet paper on his come stained shirt, hoping to get most of it off before leaving the stall.

Frank laughs, his nose buried in the crook of Gerard’s neck and Gerard can feel him vibrate, like if Gerard touches him the right way, they could go for another round _right the fuck now._

“Should we go back?” Gerard asks as he shuffles towards the sinks, reluctantly forcing Frank to let go of him.

The stain is still there but it’s not really too noticeable. Gerard tucks his shirt back in his pants and buttons up his jacket. _There. No more stain._

“I don’t really care,” Frank replies, his voice hoarse.

Gerard washes his hands under the spray of icy water. There’s no fucking soap in the dispensers and no paper towels. Not really a problem.

“We could get out of here,” Gerard says as he wipes his hands on his slacks. “Mikey won’t notice we’re gone.”

Frank fidgets and it only hits Gerard now that he should probably reciprocate. That’s how things work, _right_? Gerard isn’t a selfish asshole.

“I could, you know,” Gerard mumbles as he stares at Frank’s crotch. “Take care of you.”

Frank lets out a tiny laugh and whispers, “Already taken care of but thanks anyway.”

As they make their way out of the bathroom, Gerard grabs Frank by the wrist and tries to steal a quick kiss from him before they have to go back into the world.

But at the last second, Frank pulls his hand away and cringes. He rubs at his wrist and quickly covers it by pulling on his sleeve. “Fuck.”

“What’s that on your arm?” Gerard asks, giving the bruise still peaking out of Frank’s sleeve a pointed look.

Frank grabs Gerard’s hand as they shuffle down the hallway, in the opposite direction they’re supposed to go. Looks like they’re not going back to Scott Pilgrim after all.

Gerard pokes at the bruise and Frank sucks in a breath. “Did I do this to you just now or?”

Frank does that thing he always does when he’s nervous and rubs at the nape of neck and chews on his bottom lip. “Oh. Hmm. No. This is nothing.” He gives Gerard a lukewarm smile and walks out of the Lincoln.

Obviously, it’s not _nothing._ From what Gerard can see, the bruise circles around Frank’s right wrist, purple and a little red around the edges.

They go back to Gerard’s car and lean against the hood while Frank searches the backseat for his book bag.

“I want to ask you something but I’m scared shitless you’re gonna punch me if I’m wrong,” Gerard says when Frank produces a pack of cigarette.

Here it is again, the lukewarm smile he gave Gerard a few minutes ago. “I won’t punch you,” he says, patting the pockets of Gerard’s slacks for a lighter. “Shoot.”

“Is everything okay with your mom?”

Frank frowns. He shrugs and tries to light his cigarette. Gerard’s lighter doesn’t cooperate and Frank shakes it. “Yeah. I guess. As good as things can be.”

“Frank, is she hurting you?”

Gerard regrets saying it as soon as it’s out of his mouth. But he can’t take it back now.

Frank just stops. He pulls the smoke from his lips, tucks a lock of hair behind his ears and stares at Gerard as if he had just told him he was from outer space. “What the fuck?”

“I mean...” Too late.

“I know what you fucking mean, you asshole.” Frank throws both lighter and cigarette at Gerard and takes a step forward.

 _Shit._

Frank’s nostrils flare. He sinks his teeth in his bottom lip and bites until it bleeds. “I said I wasn’t gonna punch you,” he mutters through gritted teeth. Gerard hasn’t seen him this pissed off since that day in the park when he went ballistic on those assholes.

Instead of punching Gerard’s teeth in, Frank shakes his head and bumps his shoulder into Gerard’s as he takes off. “If you excuse me, I have to go home to my mom.” He grabs his bag from Gerard’s backseat and marches back towards the school.

“Frank.”

“See you in school, fucker,” Frank says, waving a middle finger at Gerard before disappearing around a corner.

“Shit.”

Why couldn’t he just shut his fucking mouth for once? Gerard managed to fuck up the only good thing he ever had by being a stupid asshole who talks too much.

*

Frank is long gone by the time Mikey, Bob and Ray exit the theater, their voices loud, echoing in the parking lot.

Gerard greets them as he leans against his car, smoking Frank’s discarded Camel Light and turning every single moment leading to Frank bailing on him in his head, over and over and over again to the point of driving himself crazy.

Ray snags the cigarette from his cold hands and takes a deep drag on it. _Greedy fucker._

“Where did you go?” he asks, frowning and pushing his mop of hair away from his face. “You missed everything. That was fucking great. Totally lived up to the hype.”

“Hmm. Frank wasn’t feeling too good,” Gerard says, stealing the smoke back. “He had to go home.”

They probably know something’s up. Gerard has always been a terrible liar. But Ray shrugs and gives Gerard a pat on the shoulder.

“That sucks, man.”

Gerard ducks his head down and stomps his cigarette butt. “Yeah. Sucks.”

“Told you he was acting weird,” Mikey mumbles as he slides into the passenger seat.

Gerard isn’t sure who he is talking to. He sure didn’t notice anything off about Frank, besides the fact that he seemed more interested in Gerard’s dick than in anything else today.

Ray and Bob huddle in the Subaru’s backseat a few seconds later. Bob grumbles something before slamming the door shut. Ray cracks his window open a second later, just as Gerard digs his phone out of his pocket to text Frank some kind of apology.

“Do you have time for pizza?” he asks, his eyebrow furrowed.

“Sure. Yeah,” Gerard replies. He stares at his phone for a little while before shoving it back in his pocket. He’s not hungry but he has nothing else to do now and nowhere else to be.

“Don’t worry,” Mikey says with the hint of a smile when Gerard sits behind the wheel. “I’m sure he’s gonna feel much better tomorrow.”

Maybe he’s right but Gerard doubts there is an easy fix for how much of an asshole he was this time around.

*

Filling Frank’s voicemail with messages doesn’t cut it. Neither does sending him ten emails in a row that basically all say the same thing.

Gerard is sorry. Gerard assumed something was wrong with Frank but apparently he knows shit about squat. He needs to see Frank and know they’re okay. If Frank would please call him back it would be great.

On Monday, Gerard waits for Frank by their locker for as long as he can before he makes himself late for his drawing class. Frank doesn’t show up.

No sign of Frank in the cafeteria either. Gerard has to eat lunch with Mikey and his loud friends who are talking about prom even though they’re not seniors. Maybe they’re trying to make Gerard uncomfortable since he’s not going. It’s not like he could take Frank with him anyway.

By the looks of it, it might just be another case of sudden and inexplicable Frank disappearance that just happens to coincide with Gerard being a doucherag.

Gerard tries to relax. He tries to stop worrying but nothing works.

Two days pass but Frank doesn’t reappear. Gerard tries to get some _intel_ from Doris but she doesn’t tell him anything useful.

“I cannot give you this information,” she just tells him, like the fucking robot she is.

Gerard waits another couple of days before showing up on the Iero’s doorstep. It’s 2.30pm and Gerard should be in Bio. Hopefully, he’s not missing anything important like a pop quiz.

He’ll find something to tell Mom, and then have her write a note. He’s not sick or anything but he does feel like shit. It should count for something.

His stomach leaps when the front door opens with a creak, and Mrs Iero appears in the frame. She’s wearing a black pencil skirt and a purple button-up shirt with a nametag that reads, _Linda Iero. Assistant Manager_. She looks different from the last time Gerard saw her. The dark circles under her eyes make her look wearier, more vulnerable.

She seems surprised to see Gerard by the way she frowns and cocks her head to the side, looking over Gerard’s shoulder as if she was expecting he wouldn’t be alone.

“Gerard?” She opens the door wide and takes a step towards Gerard. “Everything OK?”

“Hmm. Hi. I was wondering if Frank was okay,” Gerard says as he shuffles his feet on the welcome mat. “Is he sick or something?”

“No. He’s at school today. You didn’t see him?” Mrs Iero, _Linda_ ’s voice breaks. Gerard can read panic in her eyes. _Shit. Good job, Gerard._

Gerard shakes his head and avoids looking into her eyes. “Oh. You’re probably right. I guess I just missed him. I mean, if you say he’s okay then he must be.”

Frank’s mom sighs, probably from relief or from frustration. Then she asks, “Aren’t you supposed to be at school too?”

“Yeah. I’m…Thanks, Mrs Iero,” Gerard stutters before scuffing his feet back to his car. If he drives fast enough, maybe he can be back in time for next period.

*

Now that Gerard has established that Frank is avoiding him like the motherfucking plague, things get clearer, a little easier to deal with.

If Frank doesn’t want to talk to him over the phone or in person, Gerard will have to reach him through notes.

Gerard never really stopped sliding things in Frank’s books, sketches, ridiculous poems full of angst and random song lyrics, and Frank never stopped replying to them.

Instead of dozing off during computer art like the rest of the class, Gerard takes his notebook and starts jotting down a letter full of apologies and _Please, Frank. I didn’t mean it. Forgive me._

Of course, the letter sucks balls and Gerard has to start over three times or four times before ultimately giving up.

Frank is not going to want to read a stupid letter.

The idea to make him a mix CD comes to him while he’s grabbing his copy of _Wuthering Heights_ from his locker. His eyes fall on Frank’s collection, neatly arranged in their corner and it’s like a light bulb comes on in his brain.

A mix CD could work.

Gerard starts working on it right away. He writes down a list of possible songs he could use during class instead of taking notes. Then, he gets home and draws a series of covers while his computer burns the CD.

Since Gerard can’t make up his mind, he ends up putting all twenty five variations of the cover art inside (and tapped to the back of) the CD case.

Mikey shows some interest in the project when he stops by Gerard’s room to inform him that he missed dinner.

“Are you making this for a girl?” he asks, picking up the case and looking at the track listing.

“No.”

“Are you making this for me?”

“Why would I make you a mix CD?” Gerard asks as he snatches the case back from Mikey’s bony fingers.

“Cause you’re trying to apologize for using up all of the toilet paper and forgetting to replace it?”

Before this escalates into a full scale war, Gerard sighs and says, “I’m making this for Frank.”

“Oh.” Mikey sits down on the corner of Gerard’s desk and points at a couple of songs on the mix. “I like this one. And this one too. You should try Dig, by Incubus. I think Frank likes them.”

“Thanks.”

Mikey drops back onto his feet a moment later before slowly making his way out of the room. “Mom made you a sandwich,” he announces as he stands in the doorframe, pushing his glasses back up on his nose absent-mindedly. “I was gonna say I ate it on my way here to piss you off. I left it on the kitchen counter if you’re hungry.”

“Thanks,” Gerard says, briefly looking up from his latest work in progress, a hurried sketch of Frank riding a unicorn. The unicorn is goring Principal Matto. This cover might be the one.

*

Gerard doesn’t get any sleep that night. He has too much shit turning in his head.

Since Frank is still missing on Friday morning, Gerard puts the mix CD in their locker, somewhere Frank can’t miss it even if he tried, on top of his current reading material, hoping he will hear back from Frank eventually; maybe next week or some time during the next decade if he gets lucky.

But Gerard doesn’t have to wait that long. When he shows up at the locker to get his American History book before second period, the CD is gone and has been replaced by a small pink post-it note.

Scribbled in Frank’s easily recognizable chicken scratch, the words:

 _Thanks for stopping by my house.  
My mom freaked and thought I was cutting class._

 _FrnKnStn_

 _PS. We need to talk. Wait for me tonight. Just you, please._

Gerard takes a deep breath and his stomach contracts. There’s a lump in his throat he cannot swallow for the life of him. He wants to throw up or hide for the rest of his life. Or at least until he graduates.

Obviously, the note means Frank is going to break up with him. Is it even possible to break up with your best friend? Probably.

The lump in his throat doesn’t go away at all and Gerard has to skip lunch. He doesn’t want to puke it all back up in the middle of the cafeteria. Although it would get him to be sent home. He wouldn’t have to deal with Frank if he was home, sick.

The day drags on.

By some weird twist of fate, the advanced art teacher Mr Wilson, releases him half an hour late because he wants to go over Gerard’s portfolio with him.

“It’s really important you get your portfolio together if you want a shot at SVA, Gerard,” he tells him while Gerard fidgets next to him.

Gerard would be really happy to talk about art with the only teacher who seems to give a fuck about him any fucking day, but he’s supposed to be meeting Frank so they can have a serious talk and possibly break up.

Gerard mumbles an excuse and Wilson lets him go after Gerard promises to do this with him next week.

When Gerard finally walks out of the art building, Frank is pacing around Gerard’s car, smoking and biting on his fingernails.

The few remaining students vacate the parking lot one by one, the buses leave. Then it’s the teachers and the nuns who start pouring out of the building, into small groups.

Frank looks up as he notices Gerard and flicks what’s remaining of his cigarette across the parking lot. He spits a jumbo sized loogie and clears his throat.

“Hey,” Gerard says as he takes a careful step towards Frank and digs into his book bag for his car keys.

Principal Matto’s car is still on its _Reserved_ spot but the guy keeps weird hours. He might even sleep in his office judging by how the place smells and how stupid his hair looks every morning.

Soon Gerard and Frank are the only students left.

“You’re late,” Frank finally says, his eyes falling on his watch. “Could you take me home now?” he asks without pausing to hear the reason behind Gerard’s lateness. He points his chin at Gerard’s Subaru and leans over to write something on the dust covered windshield. _To wash_

“Yeah. Yeah. Of course.”

Gerard unlocks the passenger door and throws his book bag in his busy backseat. It lands on a pile of brown paper bags and empty burger wrappers.

Frank grimaces before flopping into his seat. He mumbles a quiet “Thanks,” as Gerard sits behind the wheel.

Gerard is still feeling a little sick when he pulls out of the parking lot. His heart is pounding like a kick drum, louder and louder until it’s the only thing Gerard can hear. He shuts his eyes for a second, takes a lungful of air and tries to focus on getting Frank home in one piece after he nearly hits a Hummer as he drives into incoming traffic.

Frank doesn’t fiddle with the radio like he sometimes does. They listen to the local news, followed by a classic by Lynyrd Skynyrd.

Tom Petty is singing _Don’t Come Around Here No More_ when Gerard pulls over by the curb. He takes it as a sign that Frank is likely to dump his ass in the next minute. He cuts the engine and ventures a glance in Frank’s direction.

“Could you come inside for a minute?” Frank asks as he unbuckles his seatbelt and shuffles his feet on the floor mat. “I don’t want to do this here.”

“Yeah. OK.”

There are no cars in the driveway. Frank’s mom is probably still at work.

Gerard stares at his feet as he stalks after Frank, quiet and so nervous he’s only seconds from throwing up. His stomach swoops as Frank grabs his hand and pulls him inside the house.

*

It’s the first time Gerard sees Frank’s room. Well, at least from the inside. The glimpse he got from the outside when he was perched into his tree didn’t do it justice.

It looks a little like Frank’s locker, mix CDs and books everywhere, stickers and posters of bands, an entire shelf with nothing but vinyl records. It’s not as messy as Gerard’s room. Only a couple of t-shirts lie on the floor but the rest is neatly organized. There’s a tiny TV set with an X-Box in a corner gathering dust.

There’s the familiar smell of Frank, the smell of tobacco laced with something sweet, maybe strawberries and vanilla. Gerard takes a deep breath. It’s probably the first and only time he gets to see Frank’s room.

Frank shuts the door and leans against his desk where a laptop is buzzing quietly. “Sit down, please.”

He looks nervous, the way he rubs his palms over his slacks and seems to be avoiding Gerard’s eyes. He loosens his tie and shrugs off his jacket.

Gerard stares at Frank’s bed for a second before pulling up a chair.

Frank stays quiet for the longest time and Gerard is starting to think that this is it; they’re just going to sit in silence for a while and then go their separate ways.

“I think we’re past keeping secrets from each other,” Frank says. He shuffles his feet on the carpet and clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth in frustration. “You have the right to know about me,” he adds, before he crouches down in front of Gerard and sits on his heels. “My mom is gonna hate me for this but screw her.”

Frank stares down and takes a deep breath.

“What’s going on, Frank?”

When he looks up at Gerard, there’s something strange in his eyes. It’s the same thing Gerard saw that one time in his room. That one time Gerard almost kissed him for the first time.

“You know the bruises and the days I go completely off the grid?”

Gerard nods.

“It’s because I’m sick,” he says, before chewing on his bottom lip.

Gerard doesn’t know what kind of disease Frank has but, sure, it makes perfect sense.

Then Frank adds, “I have something called Lycanthropy. It’s something my dad has and now I have it too. Actually, I was born with it but...” And everything stops making sense again.

“You’re,” Gerard mumbles. The rest of the sentence doesn’t come. “What?”

Frank ducks his head again. “I’m a werewolf, yeah. A freak of nature.”

“Right.” _Right._ This has to be a joke. Gerard suddenly cannot breathe. He struggles to remove his tie before it chokes him but cannot make his fingers work around the knot.

“I didn’t show any symptoms until I hit puberty. I was just as freaked out as you are right now when my dad told me I would turn, and…oh shit, you think I’m joking, are you?”

“Are you?” Of course he is joking. It wouldn’t make any sense otherwise, since werewolves only exist in fiction and this is as real as it gets.

Frank shakes his head. “Wish I was, man.”

“Right.”

“My mom kicked my dad out because he was trying to teach me how to hunt,” he continues, frowning like it pains him to speak about this. “I don’t want to fucking hunt my neighbors’ pets.”

He shakes his head again and looks up at Gerard.

“That night when you busted me out of the garden shed, I didn’t want to follow you home. I was scared I would bite you. But there’s something about you. About your scent. It drives me insane when I can’t reach it and it soothes me when I’m near you. I could smell you as soon as you came by. I was about to dig a hole under the door and chew the chains off when you released me.”

“Wait, so that _was_ you.” _Fucking Mikey._ How is he always right about everything?

“Yeah. I shouldn’t have fallen asleep like that. My plan was to sneak out of your room before you woke up, before I turned back. I didn’t want you to know about this. Not like that.”

Out of all the things Gerard thought this meeting would be about, this wasn’t one of them. He thought Frank was going to break up with him or tell him his mom _did_ abuse him. He thought Frank was going to make out with him and tell him he wasn’t mad at him for being an idiot. But they’re not making out and Gerard doesn’t even know what to say.

“I don’t know what to say,” he says out loud and Frank grabs his hands, lacing their fingers together.

“Tell me you won’t say anything. You won’t tell Mikey or Ray or anyone else.”

“I won’t.” If he told anyone, they would probably think he’s gone completely bonkers.

Frank squeezes Gerard’s fingers before letting go. “I’m sorry I’m unloading this on you. I’ve never told anyone before. I’d understand if you wanted to go now.”

“No. I don’t.” And it’s really strange because Gerard actually doesn’t want to leave. Maybe what Frank just told him hasn’t sunk in yet. Maybe it never will because, seriously, how is that even possible in the real world?

“And in case you’re wondering, my mom never touched me. She’s never been anything but good to me. She’s just trying to make sure I don’t hurt myself or others.”

“I’m sorry I even thought that—”

Gerard runs a finger on Frank’s cheeks, on his chin and forgets that he was just talking.

As he strokes Frank’s lips, he has some sort of epiphany. He couldn’t care less that Frank is not a _normal_ , boring, human being like him. What does normal mean anyway?

“I won’t tell anyone but you have to promise me something,” he says, leaning forward to press his forehead against Frank’s.

It’s a little odd how pretty Frank can be, even from this up close with his perfectly arched eyebrows, his round cheeks and his lips, so red and full and ready to be put to use.

Frank smiles as he starts drawing circles on Gerard’s hands with his thumbs. “What?”

“Promise you’ll never bite me?” Gerard asks in a whisper. It’s not like he would hate to be turned into a werewolf but his life is already a _suckfest_ as it is without throwing in some supernatural crap in it.

“I’ll never bite you. Unless you ask me to, that is,” Frank replies with a grin. He pulls away and scrambles back to his feet.

“Can you turn me into a werewolf? I mean, is it like an STD or you have to be born one?” _Fuck._ Gerard has a million questions about this, about silver bullets and immortality and wolf packs and— Is Frank going to age slower or is he going to stay fifteen forever? No. That’s vampires.

Frank leans down and plants a kiss on Gerard’s open lips. “I’d have to bite you during one of my moons,” he says before climbing into Gerard’s lap. The chair squeaks under their combined weight. “When I’m in wolf form. I guess that’s still a possibility but I’ll try to be a good wolf.”

He shifts and the chair makes an ominous crack.

Gerard stays perfectly still and stares into Frank’s eyes. He takes a deep breath and tries not to spew out every question he has because they all sound so fucking ridiculous in his head. Instead, he licks his lips and watches as Frank licks his, and—

“I don’t care if you’re a werewolf, a vampire, a succubus, or from Middle Earth, Frank. I love you. I love the way you smell and the way you smile and your lips are the most perfect. And okay, I guess there had to be a catch because you’re too awesome to be true but the werewolf thing isn’t even a catch because I think it’s kinda rad.”

Gerard can feel himself blush. He didn’t mean for all this word vomit to come out but he feels relieved when he’s done. He is almost too happy to wait for Frank to reciprocate. The knot in his stomach is gone and has been replaced by a pleasant tingly sensation in his dick.

Instead of saying something like, _I love you too Gerard. Be my boyfriend and now, let’s get naked so I can suck your cock,_ Frank opens his mouth and laughs. “Wow.”

“Wow?”

“I think that’s the cheesiest declaration I’ve ever heard,” Frank says, shifting on the chair again.

Another threatening crack sounds and Gerard is pretty sure the thing is going to break, taking him to whole new levels of embarrassment.

Frank giggles and makes a very bad attempt at imitating him. “Your lips are the most perfect,” he says in a nasal voice that doesn’t sound anything like Gerard.

Gerard doesn’t sound like a fucking duck.

“Asshole.”

“Now I think we should make out before my mom gets home,” Frank announces as he straddles Gerard, the chair cracking as he starts rocking his hips, his dick rubbing against Gerard’s through their pants. “She doesn’t get home before 6 so that gives us plenty of time to catch up.”

Gerard mumbles, “Good plan.” Then he can’t speak anymore because Frank’s tongue is in his mouth, twirling around his, licking slowly, warm and sweet.

Frank’s hands wander on Gerard’s neck, on his throat and in his unwashed, sticky hair and Gerard can do nothing but whine with want.

There’s the sound of Gerard’s zipper sliding open which is weird because Gerard didn’t realize Frank had so many hands. Gerard lets out a surprised cry before starting to move with Frank, grinding against him in a slow and not really that satisfying rhythm.

Then Frank makes it all better when he starts to rut against Gerard harder; his kiss more urgent, his breath hot and hasty on Gerard’s lips.

As usual, Gerard doesn’t know what to do with his fingers so he curls them into Frank’s shirt and tugs. He slides his fingers down the waistband of Frank’s slacks and struggles to unbutton the suckers.

“Fuck. Jesus fuck,” he mutters.

Before he can manage it, Frank’s hips snap and the chair cracks under them. This time, it actually cracks _and breaks_. It fucking gives out and Gerard can feel himself fall backwards. He lets go of Frank and windmills his arms above his head; the most useless thing to do in this situation.

It’s bizarre how fast it happens. Gerard knocks his left ankle on Frank’s desk and hits his head against the carpeted floor. Something hard digs into his lower back and in his thigh.

“Oomph.”

He crashes with a thud and Frank lands on top of him, knees firmly planted around Gerard’s hips.

Gerard pants and stares at Frank, his eyes huge. _Cockblocked by a chair._ This is a new low.

“Are you okay?” Frank asks before laughing, loud and happy, and not at all worried about the state of Gerard’s ass or the fact that his balls nearly got crushed by a hundred and ten pounds of Frank.

“We broke your chair,” Gerard replies, his heart racing and his lower back throbbing. He squirms on the floor and pulls out a broken piece of Frank’s chair from under him.

“It’s alright. Mom will buy me a new one,” Frank says before lying down on top of Gerard.

“Awesome.”

They’re back to kissing within seconds, as if the chair incident was already forgotten and Gerard is alright with this. He doesn’t even feel pain anymore. It’s just Frank’s tongue in his mouth and their dicks rubbing together through their school uniforms.

“You need to take this off,” Gerard mumbles inside Frank’s mouth when he remembers what he was trying to do before he landed on the floor. He tugs on Frank’s shirt with one hand and on the waistband of his pants with the other.

Frank sits up on his heels and starts to unbutton his shirt, so slow it’s excruciating, and Gerard wants to tell him to _hurry the fuck up_ because Frank’s mom might be coming home soon, and Gerard might die if he doesn’t get to hump the shit out of Frank.

“Fuck, Frank. I need you to be naked now,” he blurts out, squirming under Frank to help him pull his pants down faster. He looks down and notices that in the commotion, his own pants slid down from his ass. He struggles weakly for a minute to get them off and manages to get them as far down as his knees. That should be enough.

Frank shrugs off his shirt and throws it on his bed. He squirms out of his pants and topples over as he pulls them down to his feet. He giggles, kneels back on top of Gerard and takes off his boxer shorts.

“My mom’s gonna be back soon,” he mumbles before helping Gerard out of his jacket.

“We better be quick,” Gerard says, his stomach doing backflips at the sight of Frank in all his nakedness; Frank’s dick already half hard rubbing against Gerard’s inner thigh and giving him fucking goosebumps all over.

Frank bites his bottom lip and wraps a hand around his dick. “Yeah. I’m sure I’ll be.”

Gerard snorts and Frank glares at him in an attempt to appear pissed off at him. It’s very unlikely that Gerard lasts more than thirty seconds so he feels a little like a hypocrite for laughing.

“How are you so fucking pretty all the time?” he says, and Frank leans closer, his fingers latching around Gerard’s tie.

“Shut up, Gee and take off your fucking clothes before I have to rip them off.”

Gerard complies. He pushes his bright pink briefs (why the fuck did he wear these today?) down and starts unbuttoning his shirt.

He doesn’t get to finish though because Frank doesn’t let him. He grabs Gerard’s dick and starts jacking it with his, spitting in the palm of his hand to make the slide easier.

Gerard thrusts up. He cannot fucking help himself. He puts a hand on top of Frank’s and tries to keep up with Frank’s erratic rhythm, their fingers sticky with pre-come, touching, squeezing, tugging.

For a short while, Gerard remains quiet. He bites the inside of his cheek so he doesn’t start saying stupid things but Frank’s starts pumping faster and Gerard loses it completely. He lets his hand slide off their dicks and grips at the carpet instead, trying desperately to hold onto something.

“Fucking. Jesus. Oh. God.” Gerard watches Frank stroke them together at breakneck speed; so fast that Frank’s hand becomes a blur of knuckles and slick fingers.

“Fraaaank,” he whines, his head pounding against the floor. He arches up and digs his fingernails in Frank’s thighs.

His orgasm crashes onto him like a wave, roaring inside him, so powerful it makes the world spin and go black for a second. He comes, over and over again until he can’t do it anymore and he’s left panting on the floor, a fucking mess, beads of sweat rolling down his neck.

When he comes to, he’s still thrusting up and down Frank’s hand, his dick throbbing. He needs to stop now before his dick catches on fire.

Frank spills into his own hand a few seconds later. He lets out a tiny whimper, shudders and throws his head back.

He eventually flops down on top of Gerard and nests his head on Gerard’s sweat drenched shirt.

“That was fucking awesome,” he whispers, pulling a dusty old box of Kleenex from under his bed.

He wipes the come off his hand and hooks his chin on Gerard’s chest. He looks up at him and grins, his eyelids drooping, his messy hair falling over his eyes.

“Next time, you should fuck my mouth,” he says and it’s the most amazing idea anyone ever had in the history of great ideas.

Frank plays with Gerard’s tie for a little while, wrapping it around his fist and pulling Gerard up for a lazy kiss.

Gerard is almost ready to go at it again by the time Frank rolls off of him and rushes up to his window, his slacks pooling around his ankles. He pulls them up in a hurry and says, “How is it fucking 6 already?”

*

When Frank’s mom knocks on the door, Gerard is sitting in a corner with a book in his lap and Frank is sat at the opposite corner with his laptop, pretending to be doing his homework.

The rubble of the chair they destroyed are piled up on top of Frank’s desk because they wouldn’t fit in the trashcan. There was no time to hide them anyway.

One look at Frank’s flushed face could be enough to blow their cover. Also, his hair and the way his shirt is wrinkled and untucked. Frank’s entire being screams, “I JUST HAD MIND BLOWING SEX. ASK ME HOW.”

But Frank mom doesn’t come in. She knocks and speaks through the door, her voice soft. “Would you boys like to come down for snacks?”

 _Boys._ She knows Gerard is here. Because of the car, probably. At least, Gerard doesn’t have to hide in Frank’s closet.

Gerard mumbles a quick no. He’s not ready to stand on his legs right now. It feels too much like his bones have melted and been replaced by rubber. “Thanks,” he adds, glancing up at Frank.

“Not tonight, Ma’. But thanks,” Frank says with a tiny smirk.

They wait a few seconds, until they can hear footsteps coming down the stairs. As soon as they’re in the clear, Frank discards his laptop on the floor and crawls up to Gerard.

“From now on, you’re always taking me home,” he says as he readjusts Gerard’s tie.

*

As it turns out, Frank gets really horny before full moons; one of the perks of _dating_ a supernatural creature.

“It’s this thing I can’t control,” he tells Gerard a week before his next moon as they sit by their locker, flipping absently through a comic book Gerard picked at random from his collection. “There’s this itch under my skin, this urge to fuck everything in sight and grind my bones against yours until we’re both dust. You know?”

That’s kind of creepy but Gerard is into creepy things. Besides, it’s also kind of absurdly romantic.

“So, you’re gonna want to have sex with me once a month?” he asks, trying to hide his excitement by crooking his mouth to hide a grin.

“I _always_ want to have sex with you. It’s just going to be a little harder for me to control myself. Things might get a little messy too. Like I might drag you in a dark corner to fuck you senseless.”

It’s like Christmas and Halloween and Gerard’s birthday all rolled into one. “I don’t think I’ll be able to, you know, stop you.”

Frank sighs. Maybe he didn’t get how awesome this is.

“That’s why I tend to take a few days off school. I don’t think the nuns would like me walking around school with my dick out or dry humping you into the walls. You know how they are in this fuckhole.”

Just as Frank says this, Gene and his gang of assholes pass them in the hallway. They don’t even risk a glance at Frank. They’re probably scared he’s going to kick their ass again, this time, in public.

Gerard smirks.

“So you’re gonna go away again,” he says as he looks down at the colorful pages of _Zenith, Book One: Tygers._.

“Yeah. Have to. My mom likes to keep an eye on me. Make sure I don’t go on a murdering spree. It would fuck up my diet.”

Gerard closes the comic and puts it back in his book bag. He grabs Frank’s wrist to check out the time. “I don’t want you to go,” he says, slowly crawling up to his feet.

Frank holds his arms up and Gerard has to pull him off the floor.

“I won’t be gone long,” he says, picking up his books. “Besides, I’ll be home. Being miserable. And having to jerk off ten times a day. I’m telling you, it’s the opposite of fun.”

Gerard stops breathing for a few seconds. He can see it clearly: Frank, naked on his bed, his hand wrapped around his dick, panting, covered in sweat, sticky, his mouth open as he whines and—

“Gerard? Gee?”

Gerard blinks and Frank is staring at him, looking a little worried. He rest a hand on Gerard’s arm and tugs on his sleeve.

“I’m back,” Gerard mumbles. He puts the image in his spank bank, labeled and catalogued for future use, right between Princess Leia in her gold bikini and Frank straddling him in his room. He looks down and is relieved to see his boner isn’t too obvious. Thank God for his school regulation slacks.

Gerard has his final advanced art exam next period and he will have to stand up in front of the rest of the class to show his art. A boner wouldn’t really help him feel less stressed out.

“I guess we could hang out this weekend. I mean, Saturday. I might be acting a little weird but I don’t think I can go that long without seeing you,” Frank says, and instead of making Gerard happy (Frank can’t go three fucking days without seeing him. They clearly are in love), this makes Gerard feel stupid and depressed.

He didn’t think the full moon was this weekend. He didn’t have time to really prepare himself for this.

“Is it okay if I visit you on your wolf night? Maybe, I don’t know, I could help?” And by helping, Gerard doesn’t even know what he means. It’s not like he can do anything about Frank turning into a wolf. Although, he could probably do something about Frank’s _other_ needs.

Frank shakes his head. “My mom won’t let you pass the front door.”

“She doesn’t have to know I’m here. I could just come by the shed like last time.”

“The shed was a temporary thing. My mom thinks it’s safer if I stay in a cage in the basement. I had to tell her about the leap through the window. You should have seen her face.”

A _cage_ in the basement for such an inoffensive little wolf? Clearly, Frank’s mom is taking her werewolf guarding duties a little too far.

“I want to be there for you,” Gerard says, his hand brushing against Frank’s as they walk down the crowded hallway. They can’t hold hands here and yet it’s what Gerard needs the most.

“The transformation can be pretty ugly,” Frank says, staring at his feet. “That’s what my mom told me. Sometimes, I even pass out from the pain.”

“Fuck.”

How can something this horrible happen to someone so wonderful?

In movies, people turn into werewolves and it looks painful as all hell, but it’s the fucking movies. Gerard didn’t even think about that before Frank brought it up. Frank is in terrible pain every full moon and he never said anything before.

Gerard resists the nagging urge to take Frank in his arms, and give him a hug and a kiss. Instead, he brushes his fingers up Frank’s hand and latches them around Frank’s pinkie. Hopefully, no one is watching.

Frank looks up at Gerard and gives him a small, not so convincing smile. “I guess you could come after sunset if you really want to. I’ll try and leave the window open so you can sneak in.”

They get to Gerard’s art exam with a few minutes to spare.

Gerard stands in the doorway waiting for the bell to ring because he can’t let go of Frank just yet. Besides, Wilson hasn’t showed up. Maybe he’s going to be late or sick. That would make Gerard’s life so much better.

He leans in and whispers, “You won’t bite me?”

Ben _some-East-European-sounding-last-name-Gerard-can’t-pronounce_ , the guy who usually sits two rows in front of Gerard in advanced art class, clears his throat loudly and Gerard has to take a side step to let him through. He lets go of Frank’s finger, reluctant.

“Good luck with your exams,” Frank says, stealing a quick kiss from him while nobody’s watching before rushing off to his next class.

*

The night before Frank’s moon, Gerard has the house to himself since Mikey is on a date and his parents are gone to some house party somewhere in North Jersey.

Gerard’s bed sheets aren’t clean because he didn’t really plan to have company. His room smells like humidity and three days old sweat. He doesn’t have condoms or lube anywhere. He didn’t plan anything, didn’t put candles out to make his room look less like a dump or smell less like gym shorts, and didn’t pick any appropriate music to set the mood.

Frank is almost climbing up the walls by the time they get to Gerard’s room.

He’s been like this all day, jittery, incredibly touchy, more affectionate than is generally tolerated in public. Thank God it wasn’t a school day although it was still a little touch and go there for a minute when Frank rubbed all over Gerard’s thigh in the living room while Ray was over.

“I’m sorry,” he says as he pushes Gerard onto the bed, jumping over him a second later.

He is the prettiest he’s ever been with his ripped jeans and a t-shirt that’s just a little too small. His hair is getting longer, which Gerard likes _a lot_ because he can grab onto it while they’re kissing.

Gerard digs a hand through Frank’s hair and tugs on it.

“Don’t be sorry. It’s fine.”

It’s complete bullshit though. This isn’t just _fine_. This is fan-fucking-tastic. If Frank is always a ticking bomb of lust the day before the full moon, Gerard wants to be there for every single one of them.

Frank whines, pulls Gerard’s shirt up and starts licking his chest, slow but eager, his tongue raspy against Gerard’s skin, and so hot.

Gerard shivers. A high pitched moan escapes his throat and his fingers tighten in Frank’s hair. “Jesus Fuck.”

Frank looks up and there’s that golden light in his eyes that screams WANT so loud it’s making Gerard dizzy. He scrapes his teeth up against Gerard’s collarbone and sinks them into Gerard’s neck, making obscene suction noises as he works on giving Gerard a hickey.

Gerard shuts his eyes and lets Frank take over him. He lets him have everything. He bites his bottom lip and tries not to scream from how good this feels.

“I love you so much I want to fucking eat you alive,” Frank mumbles before taking another weak bite at Gerard. He giggles, hot and wet against Gerard’s bruising skin and licks a long strip up Gerard’s earlobe.

“Er. Kinda like Dali?” Gerard asks, opening his eyes again.

 _Fuck._ Gerard just made the kind of obscure reference no one ever gets, and he’s way too far gone to explain it in all its intricacy to Frank.

Frank opens his mouth and stares at Gerard through glassy eyes. “Wha?”

Gerard shakes his head. “Nothing. Just…Gala. Dali.” Then Frank’s fingers slip inside his mouth and Gerard loses his train of thought. “Things,” he adds before sucking on Frank’s fingers.

Frank’s fingers slide out of his mouth with a loud pop a few seconds later and trail down Gerard’s throat, spreading wetness on his flushed skin.

“God. You’re pretty,” Gerard hears himself say in a hoarse voice. He lets his hands wander down Frank’s back and grabs at the seam of his t-shirt.

“You taste so good,” Frank mutters before smearing his lips away from Gerard’s neck and crushing them against Gerard. He kisses the shit out of Gerard, hands clinging to Gerard’s rumpled T-shirt, his tongue sliding in Gerard’s mouth.

They kiss for fucking hours (or what feels like hours but probably isn’t, since it’s still dusk outside), Gerard squirming out of his clothes while Frank grinds against him, so fucking needy it’s almost painful.

When Gerard breaks the kiss, Frank sits back on his heels and pulls off his t-shirt.

“I want your cock in my mouth,” Frank says, breathless and undone.

Gerard has never been so quick to take off his pants before. He just kicks them off and pulls on his underwear so hard that the elastic snaps. Gerard throws them off the bed and watches as Frank takes off the rest of his clothes.

When Frank’s eyes fall on Gerard’s dick, it’s like it becomes the only important thing in the universe, like it puts him in some weird kind of cock induced trance. He lets his jeans pool at his knees and crawls down to the edge of the bed.

He spits into his palm and looks up at Gerard with a grin that’s a little terrifying. Frank seems completely out of control now. He could actually eat Gerard alive on the spot if he really wanted to.

Gerard arches up when Frank wraps a hand around Gerard’s dick. He moans and curses through his teeth.

“That feels so good,” he says, but of course this is _nothing_ compared to what comes next.

As soon as Frank starts palming at Gerard’s dick, it gets to intense that Gerard starts blubbering like an idiot. He doesn’t even know what he’s saying anymore. He just grunts and mumbles things about Frank’s mouth.

Frank’s lips slide around his dick a few seconds later, so wet, so hot, so perfectly fit for sucking cock.

Gerard is afraid to watch Frank go to town because he might come on the spot. He screws his eyes shut and muffles the desperate sounds coming out of his mouth by biting on his hand.

Frank hums and the sound travels up Gerard’s spine by way of his dick. He pumps Gerard’s dick with a firm grip and licks the tip before taking Gerard all in.

It feels like all the air in Gerard’s lungs is sucked out. He screams, _fucking screams_ before remembering how to actually inhale. He grabs Frank by the shoulders and digs his fingers into him.

At this rate, he might not even make it another minute which would be really disappointing, especially for Frank, who needs this to calm his werewolf nerves.

Gerard feels a little bad because Frank is now multitasking, sucking Gerard off and thrusting into his own hand slowly, and Gerard is just laying there while he should be getting Frank off.

“Come here,” he says, stroking Frank’s cheeks as they hollow.

Gerard’s dick pops out of his mouth and Frank presses his red, puffed up and spit slick lips in the crook of Gerard’s thighs, slowly kissing a trail up to Gerard’s mouth. He licks his lips and lies down on Gerard, grinning up at him.

Gerard pulls him down for a kiss, his fingers tangled in Frank’s soft hair and his knee rubbing slowly against Frank’s thigh.

Frank moans, and grinds up and down Gerard for a while, his hands fondling, grabbing and pulling at random. He growls too, which is kind of cool. It makes the werewolf thing a little more real and for some reason, it turns Gerard on, _so fucking on_.

Night falls while they’re kissing. The air in the room gets a little colder and Gerard feels Frank shiver against him.

Eventually, Gerard has to open his eyes and lets go of Frank’s hair. They should probably get under the duvet before they catch death.

One of Frank’s hands finds its way between them and it takes Gerard right back into the action.

“I don’t have anything,” he says, a little shameful, and a lot angry at himself.

What he really means is he doesn’t have condoms or lube, or anything handy besides a dildo in his sock drawer he hasn’t used in forever (it’s probably too early in their relationship to use toys anyway. Or is it?). The thing is, Gerard doesn’t want to stop just because he’s an idiot and didn’t plan to have sex with Frank.

“I have a condom in my wallet,” Frank mumbles.

Gerard could kiss him on the spot. And so he does because Frank is his fucking hero, like Batman but shorter and with less spandex. He kisses the shit out of Frank, his tongue twisting in Frank’s mouth, his fingers sliding along Frank’s sides. Then he says, “God, you’re awesome,” and Frank replies with a giggle.

“Time out,” he whispers, his breathing fast and labored. He searches the pocket of his discarded jeans for his wallet and comes back with it a few seconds later.

It’s this really ugly thing with a chain and a band sticker on it. Frank flips it open and pulls out a condom from one of the slots where people usually put credit cards. He throws his wallet on the floor and finishes taking off his pants, kicking them off the bed along with Gerard’s.

He hands Gerard the condom and kneels back between Gerard’s legs.

“You’re fucking me, right?” he asks, looking down at Gerard’s slick dick.

“Fuck yeah,” Gerard replies, adding a vehement nod, just in case Frank didn’t get the excitement in his high pitched tone.

Maybe they have some kind of freaky mind reading thing going on, some psychic link, because that’s exactly what Gerard was thinking about doing for the past couple of hours, except Frank was usually on the floor and on his back when he was picturing it.

“You need help with that? Frank asks, pointing at the condom in Gerard’s hand with his chin.

No. Gerard doesn’t need help. But there’s something he’d really like to be doing before fucking Frank through the mattress.

“Do you mind if I blow you first?” he asks, dropping the condom on his pillow and sitting up.

“What?” Frank looks at him like Gerard is an alien from planet Zoltron, his eyes huge and his head tilted to one side. “Did you seriously ask me if I _minded_ you sucking me off?” he gives Gerard one of his little shit smirks and lets out a throaty laugh. “You’re so cute, Gee.”

Gerard shrugs one shoulder and mumbles a pathetic, “Fuck you.”

When he wraps a hand around Frank’s dick, Frank finally stops laughing at him like the little asshole he is and throws his head back.

“Yeah. Oh. OK.”

Gerard bends forward on his elbows and stares at Frank’s dick for a second, just because it’s weird. Not that it’s Frank’s dick that is weird. It’s a gorgeous dick; not too long, pretty thick and hard. It’s just that Gerard never sucked a dick before, not in real life. The occasion never presented itself until today and Gerard feels a little dumb.

He leans in and takes Frank in his mouth, his lips sliding along the shaft, his tongue rolling against the tip, the sharp smell of Frank prickling his nostrils. His hair falls over his face as his head starts bobbing, and Gerard closes his eyes and lets the irregular movement of Frank’s hips dictate the pace.

Maybe he’s really bad at this. Gerard never actually got to practice his cock sucking skills before. But if the way Frank starts growling and pushing harder inside Gerard’s mouth is any indication, it seems like sucking cock isn’t too difficult after all. Or maybe Gerard is a natural.

After all, he’s seen lots of videos with guys going down on each other, and he is pretty sure he can replicate everything he learnt from them. _Easy fucking peasy._

Gerard loses track of how much time he spends on his knees, making Frank growl and moan and shiver and curse through his teeth. He loves every second of it. He cannot get enough. He lets Frank fuck his mouth and swallows around him, groans and gurgles, and it starts looking and sounding more and more like Frank is about to explode with every thrust.

He wheezes and calls Gerard’s name, over and over and over until it all meshes together.

When Gerard presses a hand over Frank’s stomach, he can feel it swoop and tense.

Frank stops talking. He squeaks and comes in hot, kind of salty spurts down Gerard’s throat, his fingers tangled in the mess of the sheets, his thighs shaking. His hips snap a couple more times as he thrust down Gerard’s mouth, and then he goes still.

Gerard swallows everything and comes up for air. His mouth slide off with a wet noise and then he’s back staring at Frank’s dick.

“Fuck. That was,” Frank mutters, slowly melting down Gerard’s bed, his legs giving way. “Oh fuck.” He falls on his back, only a few inches away from cracking his skull open on the wooden edge of the bed and starts ruffling his hair.

“We can try again later if you want,” Gerard offers with a weak smile. “I mean, the other thing if you’re still into it.”

“No. You should fuck me now,” Frank says, quickly rolling onto his side and reaching out to touch Gerard’s hip. “I can get hard again. I swear I can get hard again,” he adds as he lies on his stomach and spreads his legs apart. “Just, fuck me, OK?”

Gerard cannot say no to that. How could he? He’s still so hard it hurts and just watching Frank spread out in front of him like that makes him want it even more.

Since there’s no lube, Gerard rolls the condom on and slicks his dick with spit. He’s not really sure it will be all that comfortable for Frank but it’s that or nothing at all. He tosses the empty wrapper on his nightstand and takes a deep breath.

Frank looks at Gerard over his shoulder, and all Gerard can see is how much Frank wants this, with his pupils blown and his lips open. He might even want it more than Gerard which seems impossible because Gerard is going to explode if he doesn’t come soon.

He pushes back against Gerard’s stomach and growls, twists and moans.

Gerard’s hips snap before he can figure out what he’s doing. His dick slides up between Frank’s cheeks, and _HOLY SHIT_ , Gerard’s jaw falls open. He pulls away and the friction makes his toes curl.

“You motherfucker,” Frank spits out, his fingers grabbing at the headboard.

Since Gerard doesn’t like being called a motherfucker, he does it again, slides up against Frank and watches him squirm and shudder. He does it again and again and again, until Frank starts whimpering.

“You like it when I do this?” he asks, punctuating his question with another thrust.

Frank replies with a loud groan and a “Fuck me.” He pushes back against Gerard’s dick, a little more urgent. “Just fuck me or—”

“Or what? I could do this all night.” Except Gerard couldn’t. He wouldn’t last that long. He’s not even sure he can last more than five minutes. It’s even more difficult now that Frank’s hand is curled around his dick, which surprisingly is hard again. _Already._

That’s something they never tell you in the movies, how werewolves have crazy stamina and can pretty much go at it again less than five minutes after coming their brains out.

“I fucking hate you,” Frank mutters, glaring at Gerard over his shoulder, but there’s no bile in his words, just desperation and longing.

Gerard can see it in his eyes, in the way he chews on his bottom lip and how white his knuckles are on the headboard. He’s about to snap, to let go completely and give himself up to him.

Gerard smirks. “Say please.”

“Pleaaaase?” Frank’s voice hitches.

Gerard slides up once more and it feels so good that it takes him every last bit of strength he has in him not to come this instant.

As he slides back down, he presses the tip of his dick against Frank. He doesn’t push in, just stays completely still for a moment and runs a hand over the small of Frank’s back, the curve of his spine, the beads of sweat rolling down his skin.

Frank makes an undignified noise that doesn’t sound like something a human being would produce, and pushes back against Gerard’s dick.

“Franfhgr,” Gerard lets out, as the tip of his dick enters Frank. He leans forward and wraps his arms around Frank’s chest.

Frank tilts his head back and kisses Gerard’s lips, clumsy and rushed. His hand lets go of his dick and reaches for the headboard. He arches back Gerard slides all the way inside him, so fast it makes Gerard head spin.

“Oh, God. Frank.” It’s like he forgot the rest of his vocabulary. There’s nothing, no word to express how good this feels. Gerard would have to invent a new one later. He would try and think about one right now if he could actually make his brain function at full capacity.

All he can think about is how tight and warm Frank feels around him. How he wants to push farther and farther in until he’s lost, until Frank swallows him whole.

Gerard skates a hand down Frank chest and his fingers latch around Frank’s dick, still slick with come, still unbelievably hard.

Frank cries out. He pushes in every direction, forward into Gerard’s fist and back on Gerard’s dick. He shouts and trembles, throws his head back and calls Gerard’s name, his voice wrecked.

Gerard kisses him again, catching his lips as they open in a wordless plea. Their tongues intertwine in Frank’s mouth.

When Frank breaks the kiss, Gerard lips smear on his flushed cheek. He lets his mouth trail down the nape of Frank’s neck, down the crook of his shoulder blades. Then he rams into Frank, switching it up between fast and shallow, deep and slow thrusts, trying to find the right rhythm, the one that will make Frank come.

Gerard’s efforts pay off when Frank tenses around him. He stops moving and spills between Gerard’s fingers, his growls muffled behind his hand clasped against his mouth. His face turns bright red and kind of ridiculous but Gerard loves it.

Gerard squeezes him until the last drop but doesn’t let go. He loosens his fingers a little and starts stroking again. Maybe Frank could get hard again.

“I— Oh,” Frank stutters before letting out another moan. He arches his back and lets go of the headboard. He crawls up until he’s sitting in Gerard’s lap, gravity screwing him onto Gerard’s dick.

Gerard cannot move anymore. His hand slides off Frank’s dick and clenches around Frank’s hip. Frank feels heavy on him. It’s like he’s not going anywhere now. Maybe they could stay like this forever, with Gerard deep inside him. He certainly wouldn’t mind.

Frank pants and hums for a little while. Then he pulls away, Gerard dick sliding out of him with a wet, pornographic noise. He crawls on his knees and turns around.

Gerard stares down at his dick. Maybe he could finish himself off by hand. It would be okay.

Frank is quick to move. He sits back in Gerard’s lap without a word, settling back on Gerard’s dick, pushing it inside him. He hooks his legs around Gerard and starts moving ever so slowly.

“I need to see your face,” he whispers as he brings his fingers up Gerard’s face. He strokes Gerard’s cheeks with his thumb and then kisses him.

Maybe it’s the position which is freakishly similar to the one in Gerard’s spank bank, or the fact that Gerard can now stare at Frank’s face while he’s pushing inside him. Maybe it’s the way Frank bends backwards until he’s laid out on the bedspread, then up and forward again.

All Gerard knows is that he feels himself go over the edge; he feels it from his toes up to the crown of his head. He can feel warmth in his bones, climbing up his spine.

It takes only one more thrust before he’s coming, so hard his body tenses and he screams Frank’s name. He falls in Frank’s arms and gasps for air, like a goldfish out of its bowl.

Frank hums against his neck and strokes him slowly. “That was fucking rad. So fucking rad,” he says as he finally climbs off Gerard’s dick. He flops next to Gerard and fumbles for his underwear on the floor.

It was without the shadow of a doubt the most amazing sex anyone has ever had. Gerard crashes by Frank’s side and wipes the sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand, his fingers twisting in the chaos of his hair.

Frank rolls onto his side and hooks his knee around Gerard’s legs. He plants a soft kiss on Gerard’s bicep and says, “Best sex ever or best sex ever?”

Gerard wants to reply with _Best sex ever_ but he gets sidetracked by Frank’s dick. It’s rubbing up Gerard’s thigh, slick and hard. _Hard._

“You’re hard again?” he asks even though he doesn’t really need Frank to answer that.

“Yeah,” Frank says almost apologetic. “But I can wait until you are ready to go again.”

Gerard wants to be ready. He really _really_ wants to. Just, _not now. Fuck._ He still has a condom full of spunk around his dick, for fuck’s sake.

“You wanna order some pizza?” Frank asks, skillfully changing the subject. He pulls his boxer shorts back on and sits up. “I’m hungry as all fuck.”

“Me too.” Gerard forces himself to sit up and watches as Frank digs out a menu from Pappa’s Pizza from his wallet.

*

It’s nearly 6am when Gerard wakes up to the sound of Frank’s voice, mumbling quietly in his sleep.

Gerard’s eyes blink open and the sole ray of light coming into the room is soft, timid and artificial. The sun isn’t even up yet.

Gerard shouldn’t even be awake. He is exhausted; more exhausted than he ever though he could ever be.

He removes his arm from around Frank’s chest and it hurts. Every muscle in his body is screaming bloody murder. It’s like he fell into a giant blender and someone tried to turn him into a smoothie.

But really, it’s not that bad. Merely two hours of sleep and a wild sex marathon only interrupted by pizza and the local news on TV will do that to you.

Gerard smiles. He had sex last night. Like, _real sex_. Not just a quick handjob. He actually had sex with Frank and there wasn’t any alcohol or drugs involved. It’s a pretty great feeling.

There’s the rumble of thunder outside making the windows rattle and then it starts raining.

Gerard shivers and pulls one of his smelly fleece blankets on his chest. He shifts and rolls onto his side, poking his fingers inside the burn holes in the fabric.

Frank is still asleep, his hands curled around the duvet, a peaceful smile on his lips, his long eyelashes kissing his cheeks and his hair pooling on the pillow.

Gerard’s fingers itch for a pencil and a piece of paper. He traces the lines in his mind; first the shape of Frank’s head, his jaw, his cheeks, then his mouth, his eyebrows, his hair and his nose. He closes his eyes and Frank’s features take form under his quick fingers.

“When did it start raining?” Frank’s voice comes ragged and muffled.

Gerard opens his eyes.

Frank hasn’t moved. He’s still in the same posture, his eyes closed and his fingers clenched on the duvet. Then he licks at his lips and heaves out a sigh.

“A few minutes ago,” Gerard finally replies as the rain lashes against the window.

Frank’s eyelids blink open. They look heavy and swollen. “Did you get some sleep?” he asks, his hand skating across the empty space between them to rest on Gerard’s arm.

“Not that much.”

Frank’s eyes widen. He stirs and moves closer to Gerard. “Did you…Dude, did you watch me sleep?” he asks, all smug, a giant smirk on his face.

Gerard stares down at his hands clasped on the blanket. He doesn’t want to seem like some kind of sleep pervert or anything. He doesn’t usually stare at people while they’re asleep. It’s not his fault that Frank just has a really pretty face; a face Gerard would love to draw endlessly.

“You know how creepy that is? You’re like my very own stalker boyfriend.”

“Fuck you,” Gerard mumbles, pulling the blanket and the duvet above their heads.

“Maybe later. I’m fresh out of condoms,” Frank replies, pressing his lips in the crook of Gerard’s neck.

It’s really hot under the duvet and it smells weird.

The sound of the rain is constant, endless; so loud it’s the only thing Gerard can hear anymore.

He pushes the duvet back and attempts to tame his bed head with his fingers. Then he kisses Frank and hooks his legs around Frank’s.

 _Wait. What?_ “You said boyfriend,” he mumbles against Frank’s open lips.

“You noticed?”

“I did,” Gerard replies with a huge smile he cannot even try to contain.

But it’s alright because Frank is grinning back as he says, “Good.”

*

Frank’s mom pulls in front of Gerard’s house at 4pm. She waves at Gerard from the car but doesn’t come out.

They’re on a tight schedule. Frank needs to be home soon so he can prepare himself for the night ahead. Gerard isn’t really sure what those preparations consist of, besides Frank taking his clothes off and getting inside a steel cage.

“I’ll leave the window open,” Frank says as he gathers his things and heads out the door. “Just, don’t be here too soon,” he adds with a frown.

“Why?”

“I don’t want you to see me turn.”

Gerard grabs Frank hand, briefly squeezes it and lets it go. They can’t kiss now. Not with so many people around. Mikey would mock him until the end of times if he knew. He, who isn’t even a virgin at fucking fifteen.

*

Gerard wants to see Frank turn. It’s not like he promised Frank he wouldn’t be there for that.

Besides, he’s really curious to see if the movies got that one right.

He skips dinner and hides out for a while in his room, wondering if he should bring something like a sleeping bag or some magazines with him.

He takes off just a few minutes before nightfall, using the back door so no one asks him where the fuck he is going on a Sunday night with his old sleeping bag, a flashlight and his sketchpad when he’s supposed to be at home, getting ready for his final English exam.

He drives to Frank’s house and parks a couple of houses down. It’s better if Frank’s mom doesn’t know about this. He doesn’t take his sleeping bag out of the back seat. It’s still dusk. People would probably call the cops on him if they saw him. A sleeping bag would just make him even more noticeable.

A dog barks and Gerard thinks for a second that it could be Frank, that he might have missed the transformation. But it’s just a dog, a regular, non supernatural dog barking from the patio across Frank’s house.

Gerard hunches his shoulders and circles around the house, looking for an open window. He notices Frank’s mom in the kitchen, making herself a cup of tea but she doesn’t seem to notice him.

He makes a run for the garden and crouches down when he sees the slightly open basement window.

It’s tiny. Too tiny for Gerard to get in. Frank obviously mistook him for Mikey. Mikey could slip under a fucking door.

Gerard can’t get in but he doesn’t really need to anyway. He can see everything from where he’s sitting.

The basement is dark but not enough to conceal the small metal cage at its dead center. There’s a body inside it, frail, bruised, naked. _Frank._

He’s curled up in a ball, his hands over his face, his shoulders shaking as he cries.

Gerard doesn’t want to knock on the window. He shouldn’t be here. Frank didn’t want him to come for this and maybe he should have listened. Gerard wants to break the window, get inside any way he can and take Frank in his arms, fix him and kiss him until morning.

Soon, Frank’s cries stop. He looks up, tears streaming down his face, and screws his eyes on Gerard. Except these are not Frank’s eyes. These are more piercing, more wolf-like. They should be out of place. They shouldn’t fit on Frank’s face but somehow they do.

His mouth opens in a wordless plea. His teeth change shape, pierce his bleeding gums, sharp like razors. His hands reach out for Gerard but soon, they change into paws, Frank’s fingernails growing, his bones cracking, his skin tearing apart.

Frank screams, “Ge—” but the rest of the word is lost in a loud, bloodcurdling howl.

Gerard claps his hands over his mouth to stifle a high pitched yelp. The reality of Frank being a werewolf – an authentic, not Hollywood-made werewolf— sinks in for the first time.

His boyfriend slowly and painfully disappears under his terrified eyes and is soon replaced with an animal.

Gerard wants to run away but it seems like his legs won’t carry him anymore. He wants to puke but his stomach is empty. He stares at the wolf, _at Frank_ , and forgets to breathe, causing him to choke.

The wolf starts scratching at the cage, pawing at it as its eyes are fixed on Gerard.

As scary as the transformation was, this is still Frank. This is still the person he loves the most.

Gerard presses a hand over the window and pushes to open it all the way.

The wolf starts pacing back and forth in the cage. When it whimpers, Gerard feels like the biggest asshole to ever asshole.

“Hey there,” he says, his voice shaking. He slowly and carefully reaches down inside and waves at the wolf. “Hey there, Frank.”

The wolf— Frank— the _wolf_ sits on its hind legs and pushes its nose between the bars. It paws at the cage and whimpers. It breaks Gerard’s heart in a million pieces because he’s helpless to do anything.

“I’m here, Frank,” he says, trying to make his voice stop shaking. “Please don’t cry.”

The wolf stares at Gerard with its green eyes for a moment and then stops whimpering. Instead, it barks and starts wagging its tail.

“Good boy,” Gerard says and the wolf looks up at Gerard from its cage before lying down on the cement floor.

 _Alright._

Gerard’s plan was to stick around by the cage and pet Frank, maybe be there when he changed back but it’s sort of out of the question now. There’s only so much he can do from his tiny spot by the window. He is stuck outside, freezing his balls off in Frank’s garden and he’s talking to a wolf.

He thinks about his bed, warm and still smelling of Frank. Right on cue, his stomach grumbles. He shouldn’t have skipped dinner. Maybe he should have worn a winter coat too. Or maybe he shouldn’t have come at all.

“Hmm. Listen. I think I’m gonna go now,” he says at the wolf, not even sure it understands a damn thing he’s saying. After all, it’s a fucking wolf.

He pulls the window shut as best as he can, trying to ignore the distressed pleas of the wolf as it whimpers and howls, and scratches at its cage furiously.

Gerard needs to go home now. Frank would probably not approve of his boyfriend dying of exposure right outside his window.

He can call Frank tomorrow morning to check up on him. Maybe first thing in the morning before he heads out to class.

The wolf howls and barks. A light comes on in the basement.

Gerard gets up and tip toes back around the house, watching the windows for a sign of Frank’s mom. She probably went down the basement to check up on him, see why he was so agitated.

When he gets to his car, Gerard glances at his gear on the back seat. His shoulders sink.

Maybe next time he’ll be able to find another way in. Hopefully, Frank won’t be mad at him for not sticking around tonight.

*

Gerard wakes up the next morning to the buzzing of his cellphone.

It’s too fucking early to call. Whoever it is, they’re fucking assholes. Gerard was in the middle of a very pleasant dream that reenacted the events of his Saturday night but with a lot more sex; up on the ceiling, out on the lawn, on Sister Anne’s desk, on that old swing Gerard used to have as a kid.

It was one of the most awesome dreams Gerard ever had and now it’s over. Gerard’s cell phone is silent too.

Then it starts buzzes again just as Gerard is closing his eyes.

He searches for it on his nightstand, on the floor, grumbling and moaning, before finally locating it inside his bed. He fumbles with it and blinks at the caller ID.

It’s Frank.

“Hey. Are you okay?” he asks as soon as Gerard picks up.

“I’m fine,” Gerard mumbles, the shattered pieces of his dream slowly dissolving.

“Did you freak out? I’d totally understand if you did and never wanted to see me again. I’d be really sad, but I’d understand,” Frank says with a tiny, gravelly, a pack of smokes a day kind of voice.

Gerard can’t see him but he knows Frank is probably chewing on his bottom lip to mask how nervous he is.

“No. I didn’t. I just couldn’t get in and I got really cold,” Gerard explains, sitting up in his bed and checking his alarm clock. Five more minutes before it rings.

“Oh. Shit. Are you sure? I don’t want you to freak out. I don’t want you to be scared of me.”

Gerard turns it off and kicks his duvet down. _Hello boner_

“I’m not scared of you. I would have stayed. We need to think of something else for next time. I almost froze to death,” he says, pulling on the waistband of his boxers to look at his dick.

Frank giggles. “Did you get frostbite on your dick? I could blow you to make it all better. My boyfriend seems to think I’m good with my mouth.”

“I guess you’re feelin’ better then.” Gerard shouldn’t have worried at all. Frank seems to be doing just fine. “Are you coming to school today?” he asks, sliding a hand down his boxer briefs. He needs to take care of his morning wood before his balls explode.

“Can’t. Too tired. Fucking sore too.” Frank groans. “Like someone steamrolled the fuck out of me.”

Gerard starts stroking himself, biting down a moan. It almost hurts. The mere friction of his palm over his dick is too much for him to handle. Fucking wet dreams. Fucking Frank and his voice and his groans.

“Are you sure we’re, you know, OK? Cause I know you saw everything,” Frank says just as Gerard squeezes and pulls, harder, faster. “And it can be gross. I can smell fear and I smelled it on you—”

“We’re great,” Gerard manages to reply, only a handful of seconds before he drops the phone and he comes all over his hand, splattering the bed sheets and the hem of his t-shirt with spunk.

He takes a deep breath, picks up the phone and presses it back against his ear. “Sorry. Did you say something?”

“Were you just beating off?” Frank asks in a hushed tone.

Gerard can hear Frank’s mom talking in the background. “— glass of juice with those?”

“Sure ‘Ma,” Frank replies, his voice muffled. “You were saying?” he asks Gerard.

“Erm. I just…dropped the phone.” Gerard clears his throat and cleans himself up with a used tissue he just found under his pillow. “I can come by after class if you want,” he offers as he chucks the tissue on the floor. That should be enough cleaning for now. “I’ll tell your mom I’m here to give you your homework or something.”

“Yes, please. I hate the day after ‘cause I have no energy and I’m super bored,” he whines.

“I’ll drop by later then.” Gerard doubts he can go an entire day without seeing Frank anyway. He actually _needs_ to see him; not as a wolf, but as Frank.

“Ma?” Frank shouts, almost causing Gerard’s left ear drum to explode. “Can Gee come over tonight?”

Gerard doesn’t hear her answer. Hopefully it’s a yes.

“She said yes,” Frank says a few seconds later.

“Awesome. I should probably go now,” Gerard says, climbing inside the boxer briefs he already wore last week. They don’t really smell bad or anything. They’re just a little stiff. “I can’t be late. Fucking exams,” he adds, a little reluctant to hang up. It’s really nice to hear Frank’s voice this morning.

“Good luck and have a nice day, baby,” Frank says, giggling softly in Gerard’s ear.

“You too, sweetheart.”

Then, just as Gerard is about to hang up, Frank whispers, “Love you, moron.”

Gerard grins and replies, “Love you too, assface.”

*

Keeping Frank’s secret is harder than getting an A in Sister Anne’s class. Much harder.

It’s not that Gerard wants to grab the first person he sees and tell them his boyfriend is a werewolf but it’s not too far off. He just wants to tell someone, _needs_ to tell, have this weight lifted off his shoulders. Some days, it feels like Gerard is going to explode. Some days, he contemplates sewing up his mouth.

Frank doesn’t seem to act differently. He just talks and smiles and kisses Gerard all the same, as if there wasn’t this pachyderm in the room, this supernatural thing happening to him.

One night, Mikey is hanging out in Gerard’s room, eating Count Chocula cereal right off the box and talking about dying his hair blond, and Gerard has to bite the inside of his cheek until it bleeds so he doesn’t spill the beans. The only thing that comes out of his mouth is, “Frank is—” and it doesn’t seem like Mikey even wants to hear the rest of that sentence.

Gerard wants to tell Mikey at breakfast the next morning, and he wants to tell Ray when they talk on the phone the next day. He wants to tell his mom that he’s dating a werewolf too, and his dad, and the neighbors, and the kid that delivers the newspaper to their door every day. He wants to yell it on his graduation day too while some girl he’s never seen before stands in the Queen of Peace church and delivers a dull speech about the future, and how it’s supposed to be bring and shiny.

But a promise is a promise so Gerard doesn’t say anything. Besides, if he told anyone, they would probably commit him or think Gerard has a weird sense of humor.

“You’re acting strange,” Mikey tells him while Gerard is trying to parallel-park in front of the comic book store.

He accidentally climbs the curb and there’s the sound of rubber grounding against cement.

“Stranger than usual, I mean.”

Gerard looks into his rearview mirror and Mikey is staring back at him.

“Er…I’m not acting weird,” Gerard stutters.

After a second attempt at parallel parking, Gerard gives up and takes off before anyone can tell him how much his driving sucks.

The comic book store is crowded today. There’s some kind of release party and maybe a signing with this local artist Gerard would like to meet if he decides to show up.

Frank’s fingers latch onto Gerard’s. He leans in, like he’s about to kiss Gerard and whispers, “He’s right, dude. You haven’t said anything in the last ten minutes.”

Gerard squeezes Frank’s fingers before letting go of him. “I don’t have anything to say.”

Frank snorts. “You always have something to say.”

“You’re hiding something from me. Is it about college?”

“What about college?” Frank asks, a crease worrying his forehead.

Gerard should probably tell him at some point that he already got his letter of acceptance from SVA in the email yesterday. He’s just waiting for the right moment.

“No. I’m not hiding anything.”

Frank looks up from the Dark Horse section and smirks. “Well, there’s this thing,” he says, rubbing his chin.

“If it’s that you guys are having dirty sex in the car, I never want to know. If I knew, I’d have to walk everywhere or burn your back seat.”

“Do you have a thing against werewolves?”

“I hang out with you, Frank.” Mikey shrugs. He doesn’t even look remotely surprised. “I guess that’s a no? I mean, you’re pretty alright for a creature of the night.”

“I thought creature of the night was for vampires…Anyway, thanks, man. I appreciate it,” Frank says before going back to his old issue of Hellboy.

Gerard blinks at the exchange. He didn’t think this was going to be this easy.

“No problem.”

Frank snakes an arm around Gerard’s hips and pushes him into the manga section. “See? Now you can stop trying to protect my secret from Mikey. He already knows,” he says, all smug.

Now, Gerard has something to say.

“You made me promise I wouldn’t tell. So I didn’t.”

“I know. But Mikey isn’t anyone.”

Gerard narrows his eyes and sighs.

“I think the artwork in The Walking Dead is groundbreaking and you’re insane for not wanting to read it,” he almost yells, shoving at Frank and retreating behind the new arrivals. “It has zombies and the fact that it’s in black and white makes it even more—”

“I never said I wouldn’t read it. I said I had other priorities,” Frank says. “Stop being such a pig-headed dumbass. I’ll fucking get to it.”

“You’re the dumbass.”

“No you.”

“You times a thousand.”

The cashier clears his throat and Gerard feels himself blush. He hides behind a rack of comics, stuff that looks interesting like Casanova and Avengers Academy. He grabs one at random, something called Daytripper and starts flipping through it.

Mikey snags the comic book from Gerard’s hands and says, “You guys are so damn cute it makes me want to puke all over Batman.”

Frank giggles and pushes Gerard in a corner of the shop, the one with the obscure titles no one ever buys, and kisses him hard like no one is watching.

*

“Maybe I could hide my house keys somewhere,” Frank says as he crashes back onto his bed, his hair stuck to his face with sweat. “Some flower pot or under a rock. Or I could just give them to you now. It’s not like I’ll need them tonight.”

It’s the first time they had sex on Frank’s bed. It’s not as roomy as Gerard’s but Frank insisted they tried since his mom wasn’t home.

Gerard deems it a success. They might have to give it another go as soon as Gerard manages to get hard again.

He sighs and rolls the condom off his dick then reaches for the wastebasket by Frank’s desk. “Your mom is gonna fucking kill me if she sees me walk into your house like I own the place,” he says, curling up at Frank’s side, his hands sliding around Frank’s hips and resting on his stomach. “Didn’t you tell me she owns a gun?”

Frank frowns. “Maybe you shouldn’t come. I like you without extra holes,” he says, lacing his fingers in with Gerard’s.

The thing is, Gerard really wants to come. He wants to be there for Frank when he turns and stick around until he changes back.

“I’ll just hang out in your garden like last time,” he says, shrugging.

Frank rolls onto his side and plants a tiny peck on Gerard’s lips. “I don’t want you to sleep outside.”

“I won’t die of exposure. It’s fucking June, Frank. I’ll bring my sleeping bag.”

Actually, Gerard just needs to take it out of his backseat where it’s been for the past month.

“I don’t like this,” Frank mumbles before sitting up and climbing over Gerard to reach for his underwear.

Gerard shuts his eyes. It feels nice, just laying here with Frank. He doesn’t ever want to get out of Frank’s bed. “Don’t worry,” he says, burying his face in Frank’s pillow, taking in Frank’s musky scent. “We’ll find a way to be together.”

Frank barely has time to finish getting dressed before they hear a car pull into the driveway.

Gerard rolls out of bed, gathers his clothes on the floor and starts getting dressed while Frank makes his bed. He jumps in his jeans, pulls his t-shirt before realizing it’s not his but Frank’s. He throws it back on the floor and grabs his at the foot of the bed.

The front door slams. Gerard pulls his pants up from around his knees and tries to make his hair a little less disheveled. He checks himself in the mirror inside Frank’s closet. That should do it.

“Frank?”

“Shit,” Frank hisses.

His mom is climbing up the stairs and Gerard still looks like he just got laid. He considers jumping inside the closet but his stupid car is parked in front of the house.

Frank gives him a worried look before sitting down on his bed and snagging a book from his nightstand. He hides a satisfied _I-totally-just-got-fucked_ grin behind it and pats the bedspread next to him.

Before Gerard can think of a good cover up, Frank’s mom knocks on the door and then she’s inside. She’s in her work clothes just like the last time Gerard saw her. She’s holding a paper bag from some diner in Newark called Woodward Café.

She gives Frank a tired smile and a wink before turning to Gerard.

“Hello, Gerard,” she says, her voice is soft.

Gerard cannot help but feel awkward around her which can be easily explained by what he’s actually doing with her son every weekend when she’s not around to see.

“Hi,” he says, shuffling his feet.

That’s usually the part where people start making small talk, say something about the weather and how weird it is lately but Gerard can’t even pretend to be social.

“I brought dinner,” Frank’s mom says, shaking the bag. “Are you boys hungry?”

Gerard is starving because he hasn’t had any food since this morning and it’s already past his usual dinner time. He shakes his head and tries to ignore the smell of French fries and warm sandwiches coming from the bag.

“Hmm. I need to get home. Bye, Frank,” he says as he walks past Frank’s mom.

The room is too small, too stuffy, and it smells like sex. He needs to get out before Frank’s mom calls his bluff, before she can read him.

“Bye. See you tomorrow?” Frank says with a tiny grin as he gets up and starts rummaging through the paper bag.

Gerard doesn’t even dare grinning back. Not in front of Frank’s mom. It could look suspicious. Or maybe the fact that he’s not smiling is what’s suspicious. _Shit_.

“Good night, Gerard.”

He walks back to his car and turns on the engine. He’s not going really far, just a couple of houses down the street.

Days are longer now. Gerard should have planned this more carefully. He should have grabbed some food or some coffee. Instead, he’s sitting in his car like a loser, listening to the radio and watching Frank’s neighbors in their yards, trimming their hedges, mowing their lawn.

Frank sends him a text around 8 pm.

 _That was awkward. Mom suspicious. You should have stayed for dinner._

And then another fifteen minutes later.

 _It fuckn hurts evrywher need to see you_

The sun is quickly setting behind the trees. Gerard waits out a couple of minutes before grabbing his sleeping bag out of the car. Fuck if the neighbors spot him.

He locks his car and walks across the street. He watches Frank’s house for a few minutes, waiting for Frank’s mom to appear in the living room. When she turns on the TV and sits down on her chair, Gerard marches down the driveway.

He keeps his head low and hunches until he gets to the garden. The window of the basement is… _shut_ Gerard pushes it but it won’t open. He cups his hands around his face and takes a look inside the basement.

There’s the cage right in the center of the room but it’s empty. The basement door is open too. Maybe he got here too early.

“Can I help you?” a voice says behind Gerard.

He turns around and falls on his ass in a patch of wet grass.

Frank’s mom is staring down at him. He’s fucked.

“Mrs Iero. I…Erm,” he tries before crawling back to his knees.

“Why won’t you come inside, Gerard?” she asks and Gerard scrambles up to his feet. His brain is telling him to run as fast as he can but his legs are saying something else; Gerard isn’t sure what it is. Maybe they’re not saying anything because they’re fucking legs.

Gerard grabs his sleeping back off the ground and nods.

They go inside through the kitchen door.

Frank is sat on the counter, his bare feet dangling. He’s biting his fingernails.

When Gerard walks in, Frank jumps down the counter and gives Gerard an apologetic smile.

“Do you drink coffee?” his mom asks as she closes the door behind Gerard.

“Yeah. Thanks,” he replies, shuffling towards Frank.

There’s maybe a couple of minutes of silence punctuated by the sounds of the coffeemaker ticking and groaning and the faint sound of the TV in the background. Gerard can’t really tell what’s on.

“I’m not going to pretend I am not disappointed in both of you,” Frank’s mom finally says as she pours Gerard a mug of coffee. She pulls a chair and beckons him to sit down. “Because I am very disappointed.”

“I’m sorry,” Gerard says, complying. He doesn’t have anything else right now, just sorry. He’s not even sure _why_ he’s sorry. He looks up at Frank and gives him a pleading look.

“Mom,” Frank starts but she interrupts him by putting her hand up.

“Go downstairs, Frank,” she says, her tone icy. “I need to talk to your boyfriend now.”

Frank’s shoulders drop. He opens his mouth to say something but closes it back immediately.

“I’ll lock the basement after you,” his mom adds, and then she ruffles Frank’s hair and plants a kiss on his cheek. “Please, pumpkin?”

Frank grimaces. Then he turns on his heels and heaves a sigh.

“I’m sorry Mrs Iero, but we didn’t do anything wrong,” Gerard says as soon as the basement door closes behind Frank.

Frank’s mom doesn’t lock it. Instead, she stares at the mug of coffee cooling in front of Gerard.

“No. You did what you needed to do,” she says as she looks up. “Who my son wants to date isn’t really my concern. You’re a good boy, Gerard.” Her voice softens. She drags a chair out across from Gerard and sits down. “You make my Frankie happy and you really care about each other, as far as I can tell. My real concern is how reckless you’ve been during Frank’s moons.”

Gerard’s jaw drops. Frank’s mom is actually okay with him dating Frank?

“The night you let him out,” she resumes, pushing the coffee mug towards Gerard.

He grabs it and takes a careful sip. He’s pretty sure it’s not poisoned or anything but he’s still a little on edge.

“Frank could have hurt people. He could have mauled you and your family. He could have turned you or anyone else in his path. You’re not responsible enough to handle him.”

All of a sudden, Gerard feels really stupid. “Frank didn’t hurt anyone. He stayed with me. He slept at my house,” he admits, putting his coffee down to knit his fingers together.

“I know that. But there’s one thing you need to understand, Gerard. Frank is still young. He’s in his cub stage. He won’t be that way much longer. I was married to his father for eight years. There’s a difference between a cub like Frank and an adult werewolf. I hope you never get to see it.”

 _It._ Gerard takes another sip of coffee and pushes it away. He grinds his teeth together and purses his lips.

“I’m not going to leave Frank,” he says.

Frank’s mom frowns. She stares at Gerard’s hands on the table for a few seconds before getting up.

“I put a blanket for you on the couch,” she says, pointing at the living room with her chin. “You can sleep up here or you can take it downstairs and be with Frank if you want.”

Gerard hides a triumphant smile behind the rim of his coffee cup. He finishes it almost in one gulp and gets up.

There’s some commotion down in the basement, the sound of metal and then Frank is screaming, pleading, calling Gerard’s name, asking for his mom.

It breaks Gerard’s heart. He wants to run down the stairs this fucking second and take Frank in his arms.

He looks up at Frank’s mom and notices how tired she looks. He notices the sadness in her eyes and the way she looks away from the basement door. She stares at something Gerard can’t see instead, into nothingness.

“Can I let him out?” Gerard asks as he’s picking up the blanket and pillow Frank’s mom left for him in the living room.

She shakes her head. “If he bites you…”

“He won’t. I’ll be careful,” Gerard says and he sounds so fucking whiny.

Frank’s mom shakes her head again. “I’ll come to check on you later. If you need anything…” She closes her mouth just as another cry for help sounds.

Gerard’s fingers tighten on the blanket. He slings it over his shoulder and marches down to the basement door. He turns the knob and looks over his shoulder at Frank’s mom. “Thank you.”

She gives Gerard a weak, lopsided smile. “Go be with him.”

Gerard nods and climbs down the stairs.

When he gets there, Frank is curled up on the floor, crying, his bones cracking, shifting, his skin tearing off, revealing a soft coat of dark fur.

“It’s going to be okay,” Gerard whispers as he sits down a few feet away from the cage. He’s not really sure it’s safe but he’s willing to take a chance.

Frank convulses. He howls and growls and stares at Gerard with his green eyes.

Gerard holds his breath for a few seconds. He’s not surprised because he’s seen it before. But it’s a little different from up close, more terrifying, and more real. There are sounds he missed the first time, smells too, something like burnt flesh.

The transformation seems to last forever but it actually happens in the span of a minute.

The wolf sits and whines at Gerard. It scratches at the cage and cocks its head to the side.

“Your mom said I couldn’t let you out,” Gerard says, shrugging and looking up at the locked basement door. “But I guess I could come closer,” he adds, crawling on his hands and knees to get closer to the cage.

He carefully slips a hand through the bars and reaches for the animal’s nose. He pets it slowly and scratches it.

The wolf licks Gerard’s fingers.

Gerard laughs and ruffles the wolf’s soft fur.

He sets up the blanket and the pillow right next to the cage and lies down, his arm sliding through the bars again. He stares into the wolf’s eyes, trying to find something familiar, a sign that Frank is actually in there somewhere. He probably is.

The wolf stares back for a while. Then he lies down too and heaves a sigh.

Gerard falls asleep like this, losing his little staring contest, his arm outstretched, his fingers running along the wolf’s leg.

*

They establish some kind of routine after a while. They have to.

The old laundry room downstairs from their apartment is spacious enough for Frank to explore, soundproofed and secluded enough so their neighbors are unaware that there is a potential deadly animal running around in their basement.

No one even used the room before they moved in. The machines were old and never worked. One morning, the landlord put up a sign on the door that said _Out of order_ and, Frank and Gerard decided to make it their own.

Frank installed a double padlock on the door.

Gerard is the only one to have the keys. He wears it around his neck with the ring Frank gave him two years ago. Frank called the ring a placeholder for the real thing. Gerard put it there so he wouldn’t lose it, since he has a tendency to lose everything, from his car keys to his paintbrushes.

It’s a full moon tonight.

Gerard locks Frank up in his room and rushes out because he has to work on a project; maybe even pull an all-nighter if he has to.

It’s not the first time Gerard is submerged by his school work and sadly, not the last.

Since it’s his last year at SVA, Gerard has very little time to sleep and a work load that is almost criminal. But it’s okay because he has coffee and cigarettes, and Frank to tell him to go to bed every other night.

It’s late when Gerard gets home; so late that he can see the sun rising behind the buildings as he makes his way back the apartment.

As soon as he gets home, he throws his things on the couch and checks on his watch.

He pulls the keys out from underneath his t-shirt and shuffles back downstairs, yawning as all the caffeine he consumed gradually wears off.

He doesn’t run into any neighbors, which is probably for the best. He’s not really sure how he could explain why he’s keeping his boyfriend locked in the basement.

The keys are heavy in his hand. He turns them in their locks, the one with the weird panda logo in the first lock and the other plain one in the second lock.

Gerard can’t spend the night with Frank anymore so there’s nothing on the floor but a torn blanket Frank ruined a long time ago, when he finally decided to hate everything and everyone and became feral.

When Gerard pushes the door open, he sees Frank laid on the blanket, curled up and naked, his hair covering his face.

Gerard shuts the door behind him just in case one of his neighbors decides to be nosy at six in the morning. Then he crouches next to Frank and tucks a lock of hair behind his ear.

“Frank?” he murmurs, leaning down to plant a kiss on Frank’s pale lips.

Frank stirs and mumbles something incoherent.

He’s always really out of it when he wakes up.

Gerard drapes the ragged blanket around his shoulders and pulls him into a sitting position.

“Put your arm around my shoulder,” he says, whispering into Frank’s ear.

Frank slowly raises an arm and snakes it around Gerard.

They stumble up and out of the room.

By the time they get to bed, Frank is mostly awake. He crawls under the sheets and throws the mangy blanket on the floor.

“Did you get your thing done?” he asks just as Gerard joins him and pulls the covers up to their noses.

“Yeah.”

Gerard sighs and wraps an arm around Frank. He starts to stroke Frank’s warm belly and the spots on his hips Frank picked to get Gerard’s art permanently etched into his skin.

“Mikey and Ray are coming over tonight,” Frank mumbles, half asleep, his fingers lacing with Gerard’s.

“We could pretend we’re sick and sleep until your next moon,” Gerard suggests.

He fucking loves having Mikey and Ray around because they usually play video games and order in and make fun of bad horror movies, but with all his school work and his mid terms coming up, and his part time job at the book store, Gerard feels like he’s at the end of his rope, like he could actually pass out if he denied his brain some sleep.

“Can’t. Have classes tomorrow,” Frank mumbles into his pillow. “You know I never miss Professor Crew’s lectures. That guy is a smartass.”

“Do you have a crush on Louie?” Gerard pushes Frank’s hair out of the way and kisses his neck.

“Fuck you. He’s like seventy years old.” Frank turns around and catches Gerard’s mouth into a kiss. “Now, could you just shut the fuck up and let me sleep?” he asks, burying his face in the pillow.

“I don’t know,” Gerard says as he wraps his hand around Frank dick. He’s not fully hard but definitely getting there.

Frank gasps and pushes into Gerard’s hand, squirms against him. “Oh, fuck. Gerard.”

“You didn’t say please,” Gerard says, palming at Frank’s hardening cock.

“Please. Baby,” Frank breathes out, his hand reaching behind to grab at the collar of Gerard’s t-shirt.

When Frank starts thrusting into Gerard’s fist, Gerard smiles, victorious. He shuts his eyes, stroking Frank slow and sloppy.

There’s nothing better than lazy, early morning sex. Gerard is pretty sure it’s a fact.

In a moment like this, Gerard forgets that his boyfriend isn’t quite normal. But then again, he’s not really normal either and there’s absolutely nothing wrong with that.  



End file.
